#after going through a few phases of doing what HE thinks is fixing things while still avoiding taking responsibility

[pyrotechnicdarts]

ive just had a revelation give me a day to gather some screenshots ill make the best rodimus + prowl + getaway meta post ever. dont hold me to that though

[kizzer55555]

How to Kidnap a Corpse

So here’s a DP x spn crossover idea I have. So basically, something happens and the Winchester brothers come across infinite realm ghosts. Vlad specifically (could be just him, could be others.) and they get separated. They try everything they can think of but none of their tricks work on Vlad. He treats the holy water like normal water, can cross salt lines, unbothered by the numerous chants they’ve tried or sigils they write, and any of their actual weapons such as guns, silver, iron, holy metal or other, even a good old fist to the face, just pass right through him. They have NEVER encountered a creature like this before. They don’t even know what it is. But whatever it is has a myriad of powers they’ve never seen before and is pretty much invincible. And then they get separated. (Maybe in the ghost zone, maybe in some random location. Maybe they were trapped in Walker’s ghost prison for being ‘illegal humans’ and Vlad is acting Warden or wants an object from them? Who knows?) So Sam is running from this…creature and Danny ends up seeing this happen and decides to help out when it appears Vlad might kill him. And Sam has no idea why a clearly supernatural creature is helping him, especially since he thinks they might be the same species?? But he keeps running. And then at some point Sam is cornered again and Danny takes a hit meant for the guy (maybe at first Danny was just tackling Vlad and Sam thought it was some kind of territorial thing and while it was supicious the second creature kept putting itself between Sam and the first creature, he chalked it up to a coincidence because there was no reason for it to help him) and a strike was about to hit Sam but Danny, after being thrown down in the opposite direction, very clearly throws himself between Sam and the hit, taking it himself. And tells Sam to run. This changes the tide of battle as before they were kinda even but now Danny is injured. So Sam runs while the second humanoid creature distracts the first (a little bitter because it appeared to be a kid) and then practically crashed into Dean. And they have the chance to get away but Sam stops him and explains about the other creature who saved him. Saying they couldn’t just leave him there. Besides, it looked like a kid. And Obviously Dean is ready to leave. (If they did have an object Vlad wanted, it was lost long ago in the fight and not worth their lives. But maybe they just interrupted his business and he didn’t want witnesses.) So Dean is convincing his brother to leave when they hear a noise and both immediately hide and then look out to see the first hostile creature dragging the unconscious form of the second creature away and the second creature is clearly injured. And looks like a kid. Maybe 15 years old.

And then a green portal opens up that gives off the most ominous presence, enough to make a shiver go down their spines, and the first creature is dragging the injured, young second creature through and so Dean says fine and gives in but makes it clear he’s only helping so they can figure out what the fudge those things are. So they get Danny away from Vlad. Maybe they shoot Vlad and it actually works because Vlad wasn’t expecting it and didn’t phase through it, or maybe they hit him right when the portal closed and it distracted him, maybe it’s just an outright smoke bomb kidnapping and they just bolt? But basically, they do something and now Vlad is gone and they have an unconscious, glowing, bleeding teenager. So they just kinda…manhandle the body into the Impala and really, they should not have as much experience manhandling unconscious, corpse like bodies into their car, but they do. So now they have an unconscious and injured unknown creature who is likely a child of the unknown species and Dean figures that at the very least, if they are helping him they‘ll figure a few things out so as they are trying to use medical supplies to fix up the scratches and burns and stop the oozing, glowing green substance flowing from the kids wounds that they think is his blood. Dean is also doing research on what the heck they just fought. As well as poking the unconscious teen with various things. Now that he isn’t phasing through them. Iron? No. Silver? No. Holy water? Nah, just passes right over the skin like normal water. Salt? Nah. What about fire? “Dean!”

“What?”

And so the experiments/impromptu surgery happens and it’s not like they can take the kid to a normal hospital so they go to see Bobby. And he just sees the two brothers awkwardly trying to drag a glowing body out of the Impala that is covered in amateur bandaging and leaking a green substance over everything. If this is a point in the series where Cas is present, he shows up later (likely was also separated from the brothers during the fight and then reunited with them at the car as they are running to it while carrying the unconscious Danny. Or maybe shows up at the car after the battle, sees them, and is like, what is that?) and Cas can’t even identify what Danny is. Not a demon. He doesn’t sense a malevolent presence from him. But not fully human either. Too strong. And a connection to death? (Did Vlad or anyone se mention they were ghosts and the Winchester’s just didn’t believe them/thought the creature was messing with him?) uuhhhh…I’m not sure if he’s breathing but the blood hasn’t stopped flowing. Ghost? Zombie?

“He’s too….alive to be a zombie.”

“He’s too alive to be a ghost!”

Cas says he’s closer to an angel than anything but something’s still off. And he doesn’t have any grace.

“Wouldn’t a graceless angel just be a human?”

So when Danny finally wakes up it’s going to be ✨interesting✨. But basically, Danny stays in Phantom form and the Winchesters have no idea he’s part human. Even if Danny does change to his human form, they just think it’s some kind of shapeshifting ability. (Does Danny tell them and they don’t believe him? Does he keep it secret? Does he think they already know/figure if they accept his ghost side there’s no need to hide the human part and just, not bother hiding it but they don’t pick up context clues?). So they now have a baby…thing…join them.

Is this a bad Fenton parents universe and Danny ran away? Nasty burger incident and Danny was running from Vlad? Is this Danny on ‘vacation’ with his Godafther and prefers spending time with the Winchesters Until he has to go home rather than the fruitloop? Does Danny just disappear because he was injured/saved and his parents just haven’t realised it yet? Is Danny jumping between the Winchesters and Amity? Who knows!

[myth1cs]

Obedience Through Discipline (Myoui Mina x M!Reader)

Smut; An officer not listening to their superior is a clear sign of disobedience. Luckily nothing a bit of discipline can't fix. Word Count: 3,021

The hard part was already over. Now that you've finished the training phase now you could finally start doing some actual work. You were assigned to officer Myoui Mina. She was the best officer at the station though many people felt bad for you which you didn't understand why at first.

It didn't take long for you to figure out why. She was always someone who was very stuck up about following the rules. Every mistake you made was followed by a scolding by Mina on why what you did was wrong. While yes you did believe that this line of work didn't have room for mistakes you still felt like she was being too harsh on you.

Things only got worse when she became a sheriff only after a few months since you were partnered with her. Even though time after time she had clearly expressed her disdain for you she never made an attempt to get you fired. In fact ever since she became sheriff it felt like she was keeping a closer eye on you. And you'd be lying if you said it wasn't making you nervous.

During your break you were sitting in your patrol car alone since your partner Nayeon decided to have her break inside. While you were eating your lunch you heard a knocking on your window. You looked up and saw that it was none other than sheriff Mina.

You rolled down your window and greeted her. "Hello sheriff Mina. Can I help you with anything?"

"You know about the parade happening downtown next week right?"

"Of course, what about it?"

"Well Ryujin got injured in the line of duty yesterday and the doctor said she wouldn't be fit to come into work for the next 2 months. So now I need someone to replace her for patrolling the area around the parade. I'm guessing you can see where I'm going with this."

This was a surprise to you. Why was she asking you anyway? There were officers who have been serving longer in the police force which she respected more that would be available to take over Ryujin's shift.

"With all due respect sheriff I believe others may be more qualified than me. Why not try asking officer Kyujin or-"

"I don't think you understand Y/N. This isn't a request, it's an order. You WILL be the one patrolling the area during next week's parade."

You let out a sigh knowing that there was no debating this with her. Once Mina makes up her mind her decision is final.

"Alright sheriff."

You rolled back up your window and Mina walked back towards the station. "Damn brat, who does he think he is trying to tell me how to do my job? Tsk, it's my fault for letting his disobedience go on for too long. I'll have to do something about that."

Breathing a sigh of relief you were glad that the encounter went rather well. Usually she would scold you for trying to talk back for at least half an hour but this time she didn't. Though you wondered if this truly was a good thing or if there was another reason behind Mina's actions. But you didn't ponder on that idea for too long. It was silly to think otherwise... or so you thought.

The week flew by in a blink of an eye. Before you knew it it was the day before the parade. You had to attend a meeting about where everyone would be stationed at the parade and what protocols to follow. You weren't really paying attention to Mina's speech though. Not like your role was rather complicated. Just simply patrolling the perimeter, if you see anything suspicious you were to report it.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

Mina's yelling took you out of your thoughts.

"Wh- what happened?"

The whole room had gone silent. Everyone simply stared at you without saying a word. Mina walked towards you and you felt your heartbeat fasten. You felt like your heart was going to explode or that you would faint from nervousness at any moment.

"You think you're too smart for this huh?" Mina said with a mocking tone.

"N- no I would never-"

"Meet me at my office."

Mina walked back to the front of the room. The tension was thick in the air. Everyone paid attention to Mina, everyone was too scared to look away from Mina.

The meeting wasn't supposed to go on for too long. But it felt like it went by in just a few seconds while also feeling like it went on for 5 hours. Everyone avoided you as they left the room. You followed Mina to her office, hands sweating, and your heart was beating so loud you thought everyone in the building could hear it.

Mina unlocked her office door and walked in. Your legs didn't want to move forward. Was it fear? But what were you afraid of? Losing your job or was it something else?

"What are you waiting for Y/N?"

"Pardon me."

You walked in. Mina closed the door behind you and locked it which made you more nervous. "Sit down." Mina commanded as she pointed at a chair. You obeyed and sat down.

"You know what you did wrong?"

"I uhm-"

Mina sat down on her desk crossing her legs. She reached down to grab your chin and lifted it up to make you look at her.

"Look into my eyes as you say it."

"I wasn't listening."

"Say it with your full chest Y/N. I can't hear you."

"I wasn't listening!"

"Not listening to your superior are you Y/N? How troublesome indeed, will I have to punish you for this?"

"No sheriff, I'll behave from now on."

"Good to hear Y/N."

Mina's voice suddenly dropped.

"Cause this is your last warning."

Mina got off her table and went to sit down on her chair behind her desk. "Now get out."

Without hesitation you got up from your chair and made your way out of her office. As you left her office you breathed out a sigh of relief.

You went to your car to drive home but you suddenly bumped into your partner, Nayeon, in the parking lot.

"So Y/N were you fired?"

"What kind of question is that?! No I wasn't fired!"

"Relax Y/N I just had to know. So what did Mina talk to you about?"

"She just told me that this was my last warning."

"Well if that's all then I guess that's rather tame then."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Y/N I don't think I need to spell it out for you. Mina doesn't take things like this very lightly. If it was anyone else I'm sure she would've fired them already. And don't you think that she's been scolding you less recently?"

"Yeah I kinda picked up on it. Maybe this is a sign that she's turning over a new leaf."

"We can only hope so. Still the aura I get from even being in the same room as her is terrifying. I swear she gives off nothing but "Look at me the wrong way and I'll kill you" vibes."

"I swear she's knocked a few years off my life already."

"I feel that, anyways good luck with patrol duty tomorrow."

"Good luck to you to Nayeon."

-

The day of the parade came and you, along with a few other officers, were assigned to patrol the parameter and told to report anything deemed suspicious.

The area you were currently paroling didn't have many people. A few people passed by but nothing suspicious was happening in particular.

As you were walking you saw two people in an ally way. It seemed like they were committing an act of vandalism. While you were ordered to report things this wasn't any suspicious activity it was just people being stupid so you decided to just quickly deal with the situation.

Vandalism isn't something that you would arrest someone for in all honesty it was just a small misdemeanor but realized these were the same people you've had run-ins with these people before. At this point they were just begging for a prison sentence. The sentence for something like this was only up to a year so you didn't feel too bad.

-

Mina put Hwi in charge while she went on her break. For some reason she couldn't shake off the feeling that even though she told you that you were on your last warning you would still not listen to her. She made her way to where you were stationed.

"What the- I give him ONE job and he can't even follow that."

She pulled out her phone and called you. It only rang a few times before you picked up.

"Yes Mina?"

"Where are you?!"

"I'm driving these two people to the station-"

"Damn it you're supposed to report things! Do you even listen to me when I speak to you?!"

"Mina I-"

"I don't want to hear it! Meet me at my office the minute you're off the clock."

"But-" Before you could rebuttal Mina had already hung up.

You knew you were about to lose your job.

-

Once you got back to the parade Mina assigned someone else to stay by your side to make sure that you wouldn't deviate from your job.

The rest of the parade went fine. Nothing major happened that was worth noting. But you couldn't help but wish that it wouldn't end. You weren't prepared to be yelled at by Mina and get fired.

To your dismay the parade ended and so did your shift. You got a good look at yourself in your uniform before you walked to Mina's office knowing this was the last time you would be wearing it.

You had to pull yourself together and muster all your strength and courage to walk to Mina's office. Now you were standing in front of her door and you prepared for the worst.

Putting your hand on the handle and turning it you fully opened the door. Mina was sitting behind her desk sorting some paperwork.

Unsure what to do, you stood at the doorway simply staring at Mina. After a few minutes she looked up and made eye contact with you.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in and take a seat in front of me?"

Without saying a word you walked in and closed the door before you went to sit down in front of Mina not daring to make any sort of eye contact with her.

She looked at you for a few seconds before she went to type something on her computer. It seemed like she was just doing work for the sake of it but you couldn't tell.

Eventually she got up and walked up to her board where she had pinned a few documents. You glanced at the clock and saw that it was about time where most people were headed home. Most officers working at this hour were patrolling the downtown area.

Mina sighed and turned to face you. "It's impossible for you to listen. So what should I do with you?"

Was it a rhetorical question?

"I'd much prefer if I could keep my job, sheriff."

"You're almost at your one year mark. And this marks my third month of having to deal with you as sheriff. So..."

"Please don't fire me."

"That's not what I asked so I'll ask again, What should I do with you?"

"Uhm"

"Ran out of excuses have you?"

"I never made excuses sheriff."

Mina took a deep breath.

"Do you know why I'm stringent with the rules Y/N?"

"Because this line of work doesn't have room for failure?"

"Well that's not my main reason. Do you know the main reason?"

"I don't, sheriff."

"It's because I don't want to see people hurt." Mina walked over to you towering over you. "Or maybe I should be more specific. I don't want to see you hurt."

Mina reached behind her back and grabbed handcuffs. She danged them in front of you. "But I can't just let this slip by. I'm going to punish you."

The situation seemed to develop so fast you didn't register what Mina just said until she was handcuffing you.

"Sorry I leave the fuzzy handcuffs at home so we'll have to make do with these."

Part of you was hoping she was joking. Was this really happening, were you about to do it with Mina?!

"Don't do this Mina. Th- this isn't right!"

"Don't speak back to me you filthy brat!"

Mina's sudden outburst scared you and made you quickly shut up not daring to try to speak out of term.

"Now be a good boy for my Y/N. Just sit here and accept your punishment."

Mina got down on her knees and started to undo your pants. There wasn't anything you could do but simply watch. Once she took off your pants she ran her fingers along your thigh.

"P- please stop."

"You want me to stop darling? But your body is reacting so eagerly to my touch. Are you sure you want me to stop?"

She wasn't lying, you were yearning for her touch as much as you wanted to deny it. Before you could respond Mina smacked your thigh. It wasn't too harsh but it stung a little.

"But darling, I thought I told you not to speak out. Don't make me remind you again okay?"

"Ow fuck-"

She smacked you again.

"Drop the language."

"Y- yes ma'am."

Mina kissed your thighs while her fingers were rubbing against your clothed aching cock. You wanted this to continue but you knew this was wrong. It's not like this is standard protocol and she didn't even ask if you were okay with it. Yet you still couldn't help but be turned on by the given situation.

Even though you denied it your body knew what it really wanted. Shivering every time she ran her finger on your body to your cock hardening it was all too obvious.

She could tell you wanted to say something. "If you want to say something then I'm granting you this opportunity to say it."

"Please"

"Please what darling? Use your big boy words now."

"Suck me off Mina please I'm begging you."

"Begging now are we? Well I'm not entirely convinced yet, maybe you should beg me some more and I'll consider listening to you."

"Mina please, I really want you to fuck me until I can't walk. I want to lose all senses and be at your mercy."

Mina giggled at your statement. "Oh darling if you think that's enough to get me to listen to you you're going to have to try a little harder than that I'm afraid."

"Please fuck me Mina! I only crave your touch, I swear I'll listen to every order you give me!"

Mina rubbed her nose against your clothed cock. "That's more like it darling. However since you've been so disobedient then you'll have to make me cum before I give you any pleasure."

She proceeded to stand up and take off her clothes. Mina made sure to take her sweet time taking off her clothes. She knew it was driving you crazy and you wanted to get up and take her clothes off for her but your hands were handcuffed to each other.

Eventually she stripped down to her bra and underwear. Both were the same colour of pink. Mina sat up on her desk and started to rub her pussy using one of her fingers.

Low moans fell out of her mouth as she pleasured herself. You couldn't do anything but watch. You felt yourself get turned on by watching the scene unfold in front of you.

"What are you waiting for darling? Come and make me cum!"

"My hands are tied."

Mina laughed at your comment "I know they are darling. But I didn't put a gag on you did I?"

When you realized what Mina wanted you leaned forward and used your mouth to take off her underwear.

"Just like that darling, make this a learning experience!"

You buried your face onto Mina's pussy and shoved your tongue deep into her. Mina wrapped her legs around you tightly cutting off your air supply. "If you want to breathe then make me cum. Or else you'll suffocate between my thighs. Though I'm guessing you'd be okay with that wouldn't you darling?"

Fastening your pace you licked every inch of Mina's delicious pussy. Part of you wished your hands weren't tied so you could grab her boobs. But the current situation would do.

Though you tried desperately you felt yourself losing consciousness and before you knew it everything went black. "Aw did you pass out already?"

Mina unwrapped her thighs that were around your head and started to finger herself. Wet sounds filled the room as she shoved her fingers in and out of herself while her other hand was on her clit.

You were suddenly woken up by the feeling of something splashing on your face. When your eyes adjusted you realized it must've been Mina's cum.

"Oh your awake again darling?"

"Mina what-"

Another smack was given to you.

"What did I say about speaking out of term? And to think I thought about letting you cum. Since you seem to suck at making me cum and suck at listening to orders then I'll let you sit here and think about your actions."

Mina got up and put her clothes back on and you didn't do anything but watch as she started to leave the room.

"Don't worry darling I'll come and get you early in the morning. Till then think about your actions and I might let you cum first thing in the morning!" Mina said as she left the room closing the door behind her leaving you handcuffed to the chair to think about your actions that led you to this moment.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sorry for not uploading even though I said I would get back on schedule. In my defense I've been reading a really good Lux/Jinx fanfic.

Starring: You Mina, Nayeon (TWICE) Ryujin (ITZY) Kyujin (NMIXX) Hwi (TNX)

[antlerqueensab]

nsfw travis headcanons?

oughhh i was planning on doing one of these

so first off, i think it takes a while for him to hype himself up for anything other than kissing. like, the first time he groped you, he immediately pulled back and apologized. which, obviously, you encouraged him to do whatever he felt like was right, so he tried it again after a few seconds, and he could not stop doing it for weeks after that

definitely looks to you for reassurance and - though he'd never admit this - he listens to whatever you say and just needs you to guide him through whatever you're doing. so, he'll try and act all confident and sure of what he's doing, but the second you say to do it a different way, he's mumbling an apology and fixing it immediately

pre-crash, travis is definitely all for praise and encouragement. since he's sort of still in that loser/insecure about his experience phase, when you tell him he's doing the right thing and making you feel good, he's instantly red in the face and nodding along to your words. (also, definitely cried after the first time you two had sex)

i also think he'd be really into giving/getting hickeys. he thinks it's an easier way of showing affection than telling you outright - he also doesn't want to fuck up what you have by sounding too possessive. so, he chooses to focus on how you started giving him hickeys and copied what you did. and once he learned the right way to do it, he cannot fucking stop. travis genuinely can't help himself and will leave them anywhere and everywhere.

in the wilderness, he starts learning more of what he likes and gets more confident and secure with your relationship. he'll start convincing you to go on hikes with him just so he can fuck you against a random tree. there'd been a few times he woke you up and you both snuck out of the cabin to go down to the lake just to get a quiet moment away from everyone.

around a year into the wilderness, he's confident and knows exactly what you like. he makes it a point to tease you so much, grabbing onto your hips when you both are with the other girls, walking past you and purposefully touching some part of you, making sure to fix things where you can see him (he's not fucking blind, he can tell how much you love his arms and how strong he'd gotten), whispering things to you. then, when you get alone, he's teasing you even more while laying you down on the makeshift bed, making sure you keep quiet for him so the other girls don't hear.

he prefers giving instead of receiving when it comes to head. really, it started out with him trying to rush through his turn when it happened because it seemed too complicated and hard to figure out the right way to do it. but once he did it a few more times and kept his eyes on you the entire time, he got perfect somehow.

now, he'll get you alone, make sure you're steady before tugging down whatever pants you're wearing and pushing his head as far between your thighs as he can. he's messy with it too, kissing and licking so sloppy and just doing everything he knows will get you to finish. when he doesn't use his fingers, which he doesn't like to unless you ask, his hands are either holding your legs apart or keeping your hips pinned down while he makes sure his nose bumps against your clit. occasionally, he'd throw an arm over your lower stomach to keep you down while his hand either held yours or pawed at your chest.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 lowk might make another one thats more brief and scattered but idk 😭

[prettycalla]

|| the feeling comes over ||

Pairing: Eric/Reader

Summary: Eric finds a hole in Sam's yellow cardigan. You offer to mend it for him, and he opens up to you a little.

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags and Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, mentions of grief and death, mentions of trauma and nightmares, gender neutral reader, vaguely canon compliant (as in I’ve only seen this film), post-apocalypse AU, no use of Y/N.

(Miserable and in love with Eric after watching AQPDO with friends, and here we are.)

Masterlist || Taglist

Spring is finally on the horizon, and as is your usual routine, you've started the annual rearranging and decluttering of your apartment. You don't like doing it, if you're completely honest with yourself, but you always feel so much better for it once it's finished. This year, you've made yourself a little itinerary to follow, as you always insist on trying to get it all done in one day and completely exhausting yourself in the process.

Not only that, but it's the first year that you won't be doing it alone.

You'd met Eric through a friend of a friend, who had insisted he was just your type, and after one coffee date (and several more after that), you'd been unable to shake him. Not that you would ever want to; you think he just might be the sweetest guy you've ever met. He's perfect for you.

You, the one usually found rolling your eyes when you listen to your friends say the same thing, knowing they're completely oblivious to the obvious red flags because of the honeymoon phase. And sure enough, a few months later, Mr. Perfect's gone. Even you've been guilty of it once or twice in your life.

But Eric...

Eric feels different. You really do think he might be the closest thing to perfect a person can be. He's kind and thoughtful; he treats you like you're the most interesting person he's ever met, and knows how to make you laugh until your stomach hurts. You feel safe with him, and that's not something you could ever take for granted.

He was the first to say 'I love you'. You'd invited him over for dinner, and the words had just fallen right out of his mouth, in the middle of dessert. He'd went into such a panic once he'd realised what he'd done, desperately trying to rephrase it and play it down, terrified that he'd scared you away. You'd just stared at him for a while, eyes wide and mouth open, until finally you burst out laughing and pulled him in for a kiss. It didn't take long at all for you to say it back.

It was a little while later when you decided that you should move in together. The lease was almost up on his apartment, and he was staying at your place more often than not, so it made sense to just...make it official.

Of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing, and it did take some time for you adjust to living together all the time - Eric kept odd sleeping hours at times and was prone to waking you up, and your books always seemed to be stacked where he'd be most likely to trip over them. But you were able to work out the kinks together, and now? Well, you have to admit you couldn't be happier with how things are right now.

You're in the middle of organising your books in the living room, deciding which ones are staying and which you need to give up on the pretence that you'll ever read them. Eric has been going back and forth from the bedroom to the living room for the best part of an hour, sorting old clothes for donation.

It's been a while since you last saw him, you think to yourself.

"Eric?" you call, book in hand as you sit cross-legged on the floor.

There's no answer. He might be in the bathroom, you think, and you give him a few minutes before you try again.

Nothing.

Maybe he's fallen asleep. You stand up, wincing as your knees protest having been in the same position for so long. You head towards the bedroom, unable to hide the smile on your face at the thought of finding Eric fast asleep in a pile of clothes.

Instead, you find him sitting at the bottom of the bed, his gaze fixed on what looks like a yellow sweater, the fabric bunched up tightly in his hands. He looks upset. Your smile fades.

"Eric?" you call softly, stopping in the doorway.

He looks up at you suddenly, startled from his thoughts. His eyes are red from crying.

"Sweetheart, what’s wrong?" you ask, concerned.

He holds up the yellow bundle in his hands - a cardigan, you realise.

"There’s a hole in it," he says, his voice hoarse.

A laugh escapes him, but there isn’t a trace of humour in it.

“It’s ruined,” he whispers, another tear rolling down his cheek as he looks back at the cardigan in his lap.

You quietly cross the room to sit beside him. You don't press him, giving him the space to gather his thoughts.

"She gave it to me before she-" he starts, his voice quivering. "And now-"

A sudden sob escapes him then, and you reach for him, pulling him into your arms. You sit like that for a while, lightly stroking the hair at the nape of his neck as he pours his heart out onto your shoulder. It takes everything in you not to start crying too.

Eventually, he begins to quieten, sobs reducing to little sniffles as he settles. He pulls away from you, and your heart breaks when his eyes meet yours. You can't bear to see him like this.

You look down at the cardigan.

"Was it..." you prompt quietly before trailing off, worried that you'll only upset him more.

It's not an easy thing to talk about, for either of you.

What happened.

Eric nods.

"Yes," he murmurs, with a little sigh. "It belonged to Sam."

His fingers lightly brush across the hole in the fabric of the sleeve, almost reverently. You gently lay a hand over his.

"I have some sewing supplies," you tell him. "I can fix it."

Eric looks up at you. For a long moment, he just stares, as if processing your words, before he finally nods.

"Okay," he replies, his voice still thick with emotion.

You stand up, his hand still in yours, and lead him into the living room. You dig out your sewing box from a drawer and sit down next to him.

"Do you mind...?" you ask, holding out your hands.

Eric hands over the cardigan. You take care to be gentle with it, laying it out across your lap. The hole is fairly small, and won't take long at all to repair, you think. You set to work, pinning the hole closed and threading a needle with the closest shade of yellow you were able to find. You're quiet as you sew, careful to make sure every stitch is evenly spaced and perfectly finished.

You can see Eric watching you from the corner of your eye, following the movements of your hands.

"I'd forgotten about it," he says quietly. "The cardigan."

You turn a little more towards him as you continue sewing, letting him know that you're listening.

"I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it, after..."

He falters, and you hear him swallow.

"It just didn't seem right," he continues. "But I couldn't look at it either, so I just...shoved it to the back of the wardrobe."

A shaky sigh escapes him.

“Am I a bad person?” he asks in a whisper.

He sounds so small and lost, and you stop for a moment to look at him. His eyes are brimming with tears.

“Listen to me,” you say earnestly. “You are not a bad person. I doubt there’s even a bad bone in your body.”

Eric laughs nervously, and you shake your head.

“Eric,” you insist, and he stops then. “You are one of the kindest, sweetest people I’ve ever met. It’s okay to not want to remember things. Believe me, I know.”

You place a hand over his, gesturing across the room with your other.

“And I think taking care of that little guy over there is more important, don’t you think?” you ask with a smile.

Frodo is curled up in his little bed, fast asleep, without a care in the world.

“Yeah,” Eric replies, with a little smile of his own.

“I think knowing he’s safe and happy would mean a lot more to Sam than if her cardigan has a hole in it,” you say gently, your thumb softly rubbing against the back of his hand.

Eric nods, letting out a deep breath as he does.

"I know, it's just...I still have nightmares," he confesses, glancing up at you. "About...everything. And yet it doesn't feel as though it ever happened. Everything is so...normal now. How am I supposed to just move on?"

His hand is shaking beneath yours. You carefully set the cardigan aside, and take his hand in both of yours, to steady him.

"I still see them when I close my eyes," he whispers through clenched teeth. "I can't sleep at night, and I still worry that if I'm too loud, I-"

He stops suddenly. He doesn't have to explain it to you.

You know.

It's hard to forget sheer terror like that.

"Sorry, didn't mean to distract you," he says, hastily wiping at his eyes.

"I was almost done, anyway, don't worry," you reply.

You pick up the needle again, finishing up the last few stitches and securing the thread in place.

"There. Good as new."

You hand the cardigan back to Eric. He just stares at it, as if he's unsure as to what to do now.

"If you want to put it away again, you can, okay?" you tell him gently. "I won't judge you for it."

Eric shakes his head, clutching it tighter in his hands.

"No, she gave it to me, so..."

He puts the cardigan on, taking a deep breath as he adjusts the sleeves over the cuffs of his shirt.

"...I should wear it," he finishes. "It...feels like the right thing to do."

You reach up to fix the collar, lightly pressing down on it to lay it flat.

"It suits you," you say warmly.

He's quiet for a moment, fingers tracing along one of the sleeves.

"Thank you," he murmurs. "For...Well, for everything."

You shake your head, and he takes your face in his hands.

"No, I mean it," he insists, full of sincerity. "Thank you."

Before you can reply, he pulls you close to kiss you. It's gentle and soft and everything you love about him.

You stay like that for a while, tangled in each other's arms, indulging in a shared moment of quiet together. It's something you'll never take for granted. Not now, not ever.

And certainly not with Eric.

Taglist 💖: @getaapologist

(banners by @ cafekitsune)

[murphy-kitt]

Ectoberhaunt Day 1 - Past

Word Count: 1822

AO3

When Jack and Maddie unexpectedly request Alicia take in Danny, she can’t help but worry that there are deeper problems at hand.

Tags: Angst, Slight Injury

—

It was an intervention, they had said. Some time away for him to deal with what had happened. The quiet din of the farm would be better for Danny than the constant clamour of Amity Park.

What has happened, Alicia still doesn’t know.

She sits at the kitchen table, the dogs circling around her feet. It’s only ever been her, Jip and Alec for a while now, at least since her last divorce.

And now Danny should be arriving soon. Of course, she loves her niece and nephew, even if it has been sometime since she’s seen them. The boy, she thinks, was obsessed with space. The girl, intuitive and a bit too in tune with the human psyche.

Alicia sips her coffee, pondering over what could be so bad it forced Maddie to take such a drastic decision. Amity Park and Spittoon aren’t exactly a stones throw away from one another.

There had been an accident of sorts, she remembers. Something to do with that ridiculous laboratory. An electric shock, was it?

But that was nearly a year ago. And Maddie hadn’t sounded half as concerned on the phone about that incident than the current predicament.

Then, she’s taken out of her thoughts by Jip whining, a high pitch that makes her ears ring.

‘Shush, you.’ Alicia scolds, chair scraping the tiled floor as she gets up. The collie dog paces to the door, the sputtering of an engine dying outside.

They’re here. Alicia’s not sure what to expect as she grabs the door handle, yanking it down with extra strength. She’s been too busy to fix that—but now it’ll be backlogged even more with Danny’s arrival.

It’s hard to miss the large tank currently imposing over her tiny house, gadgets arraying green and silver on the roof that she has no clue of.

“Alicia!” That’s the sound of one Jack Fenton leaping out the side of the..thing. Alicia doesn’t miss the clear bags under his eyes, the strain to his voice.

“Do I have to be here?” A sarcastic tone.

Danny is tiny. Alicia nearly topples over in shock, her hand finding the doorframe and feet cementing to the porch stairs. Jip whines, perceptive to the change.

Last time she saw him, a good few years, her nephew had been chatty and incessant about space. He’d always been small, a given since he was born six weeks premature. But this..it’s different.

He’s sickly. Frail. There’s a gauntness to his cheeks, a sharp edge where he was once rounded out with baby fat. His limbs are toothpicks, white needles marred with blemishes and blotches. A bandage twines around Danny’s left arm, clinging on as if it’s holding him together.

His clothes are filthy, torn and stained with green. She remembers Maddie mentioning...ectoplasm, perhaps? But after the accident, she thought Danny would have avoided the lab. At least that’s where she assumes it came from.

“Come in.” Alicia barely stutters through, shoving the door open. “Maddie not with you?”

“No.” Jack's demeanour instantly darkens. He turns to Danny, “I’ll get your things out the car, son. You go in.”

“Fine.” Danny folds his arms, scowling.

Great. Seemingly Danny’s sarcastic phase has set in, just another thing to deal with during this enigmatic stay. How long he’s staying for, Alicia doesn’t actually know. The weekend? Weeks? The whole summer?

They both enter the house, Danny begrudgingly following behind her like a lost puppy. As does Jack, two small duffel bags in his hands.

“Right son, I’ll leave you to it then?” Jack says, moving forward towards Danny, arms outstretched.

“Yeah, dad.” Danny takes a step back, hands in his pockets. Jack falters, the smile disappearing from his face.

“Oh—sorry, Danny. Your arm. I’ll—“

And with that, Jack vacates her small cabin, leaving only her and Danny standing around the table. He’s hunched over, like he’s being scrutinised. Or would rather be anywhere else.

What the hell happened?

—

“You’re in on it, aren’t you?” Is the first thing Danny says to her the next morning.

“What?” Is the only way she can respond as she pours milk into her cereal. Danny regards her, his glare icy.

She’d barely slept last night, ruminating over what could’ve happened. A fall out between Danny and his parents? Had he broken something in the lab, gotten injured?

“Why else would Mom and Dad send me here?” Danny folds his arms, looking down into his bowl of uneaten cereal.

“I don’t know. They thought you needed a break? They’re concerned about you.” An honest answer.

“They haven’t been concerned about me. Care more about the ghosts.” He shoves his chin into his hands, voice muffled so Alicia can barely hear.

She won’t deny Jack and Maddie are…absent as best. But she knows they do care deeply about Danny.

“Is this what it’s about? They’re focused more on their work than caring for you and Jazz?” Alicia asks, feeling the dread pool in her stomach. “Something happened to you and you wished they’d notice?”

Suddenly, the kitchen drops a few degrees.

Although the fire is blasting in the next room over, Jip curled beside, the hairs prick on Alicia’s neck. Tension curdles in her stomach as she watches Danny tense his fists into his hair. Toothpick arms, trembling.

He’s not the same as he was a few years ago. Sure, teenagers are meant to grow, become snappy, but this isn’t sarcasm or wit.

It’s fear.

“Danny,” she reaches forward, despite the trembling in her hands.

His eyes snap up. Icy. Once kind, sweet. Now filled with terror.

“Nothing—nothing happened to me!” He stammers out.

Which means something did.

“I don’t. It wasn’t meant to come out like this. Mom and Dad, they saw me, and I didn’t think. Not all of it, but they saw something. And now Mom won’t talk to me, and now they’re suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” Alicia hesitates. Danny has a secret of sorts? That he’s scared of Jack and Maddie knowing. That Maddie refuses to talk to him.

“It was this.” Danny gives her a fleeting look before gesturing to his shoulder, where the bloody bandage is still wrapped. On closer inspection she sees that there’s flecks of green in the bandage. Ectoplasm?

“You got into the lab? That ectoplasm stuff?”

“No, Aunt Alicia.I—I bleed it.”

What. Alicia’s ears ring as she shoves her chair back, the shrill noise echoing throughout the room. Rounding the table, she goes to Danny’s left.

“Can I?” She asks cautiously, gesturing to his arm.

The hesitance is clear in his posture, shoulders hunched by his ears, eyes wide, unblinking (were they always that blue?).

“You really don’t know, do you?” Danny mumbles, realisation seeping into his gaze. “They didn’t bring me here because they wanted you to get info.”

“You think they’d do that?” Alicia responds, trying to repress how appalled she is, both at his parents and his arm. The injury is far unlike anything she’s even seen, and living on a farm brings a range of afflictions.

Green bruises mottle most of the skin, from dark to lighter patches. It’s a burn of sorts, a mixture of green and red like a dated Christmas store.

“How’d you get this?” Alicia asks, as Danny tenses uncomfortably.

“Does it matter?” he deflects. “I’ve been like this for ages now.”

Ah. The green blood. Bleeding ectoplasm. What was a while back?

“Was it..was it your lab accident?” Alicia tenses. Now that she thinks, she can remember the phone call from Maddie, excitedly telling her about their ‘portal’, their life’s work. And then an extra tidbit about Danny having an electric shock, but that he was okay and seemed fine.

What if it had been worse, and Danny hadn’t told his parents?

“What if it was? What if it..changed me?”

”Look, kid. Trauma from that accident doesn’t mean you’ve changed, you’re still the sa—“

”It’s not like that, okay?! Sure, with the amount of psychoanalysis Jazz does on me, we know the accident traumatised me. But it’s not that.” Danny interrupts, twisting on his chair to face her.

Alicia pauses. Lets herself take a step back from Danny and sit back down, breakfast forgotten.

It’s clear this is serious. Alicia hates to think of the implications. Danny was in an accident much more serious than first thought. And not only he his hid it from his parents in fear of them finding out whatever it’s done, but they’ve never noticed.

How long ago was that accident? A year? And her sister and Jack had never noticed anything wrong until whatever had injured Danny had come to their attention?

”Okay, kid. I get it.” She puts her hands up in a placating gesture. If the accident was seriously altering, then it’s not something she wants to go interrogating him about. “How’d you get your wound?”

“What?!” The switch of topic has Danny sputtering, looking down at his arm. He regards her with narrowed eyes. “Why’d you want to know?”

”So I can re-bandage it. Is it a burn?” She gets up from the chair, opening the drawer besides the sink. Suddenly, Jip and Alec burst through the kitchen door, tails wagging.

”It’s not treats, you silly pair!” The dogs curiously nudge at Alicia’s legs as she approaches back to Danny, bandages and burn cream at hand.

”Yeah, a burn. Ectogun.”

”An ectogun. Isn’t that your pa—?”

”Yup.” Danny licks his lips, looking away, as if he’s considering something. “They didn’t know it was me.”

What?

”They shot you?!” This time, there’s no hiding the horror in her voice. This has to be a mistake. An awful, horrible accident. Maddie and Jack wouldn’t shoot Danny deliberately, they couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

Maybe they hadn’t seen him? Out ghost hunting and he’d got caught in the fray?

”Yeah…” Danny replies. “The accident, when I say it changed me..I look different?”

”What, you’re a ghost?” Alicia scoffs. Maybe it’s her mind trying to find reprieve in the absolute bombshell, to try and find humour.

Then she sees the trembling hands, the frozen posture. Temperature of the room dropped. Jip and Alec pacing, ears pinned back, needle-focused on Danny.

”You—y’know that one Mom goes on about?” Danny’s breath hitches, his eyes bleary, “The one she’s got a real hatred for, the one she wants to dissect?”

She can’t forget. Phantom. News channels have never reached Spittoon with ghost news, but there’s no need, since Maddie likes to update her.

How Phantom is evil, the terror of Amity Park. Yet how he’s different, somehow more complex and never sticks to a routine like the others—how she’d love to capture him.

’That ghost terrorises us, Lise. The day me and Jack capture it, imagine the breakthroughs we’d have. The research potential!”

Phantom, the ghost Maddie wants to experiment on.

Phantom, the ghost that is Danny.

Alicia feels sick.

[superblysubpar]

modern!steve harrington x fem!reader

We'll Call It Love Masterlist | song inspiration

7.1k words | 18+ NSFW

A/N: While this takes place in the middle of the series (a moment in time during Part 2: Cutie), I think it's actually kind of fun to read this after the first three chapters, little easter eggs and what not. I hope you enjoy this and thanks for your patience in waiting for this story! Part 4, 5 and the Epilogue are coming soon! 💛

Warnings: This story takes place in the middle of chapter two to my series "We'll Call It Love" linked above. | modern!steve | reader and steve drink wine | descriptions of wearing some of Steve's clothes, but size is not talked about | Reader likes sunsets, spiderman, and she never finished her college degree | SMUT (PIV unprotected intercourse) / public (on Steve's balcony - you are semi-caught)

The alarm didn’t go off on time, your shampoo got in your eyes, the toast was burnt, and your pantyhose and skirt were too tight - you don’t even want to start on the heels and the blister forming because of them. Not even the worst of it, because of course your boss yells at you in front of everyone, you spilt coffee on important documents, spent hours transcribing them, only for your boss to say she didn’t need them and watched as they landed inside the trash can as your soul left your body. Security lights and the glowing fish tank in the front room are your only company for the last two hours of your day as you fix mistakes and make calls, willing the bad day to just be over already. 

Where you end up after a day like this doesn’t matter - it doesn’t mean anything. 

Maybe there’s nothing wrong with reading the text from him asking if you’d like to come over and tell him more about it when you’ve already started driving there. 

It’s not like you’re wanting the comfort this sort of gesture implies. No, it’s just a distraction, an attempt to salvage this horrible day with one thing - sex. Just ‘turn your brain off and let him help you forget the day’ sex. That’s all. 

And it’s not like it’s a crime that the sight of Steve at the end of his hallway holding a very full glass of wine out for you makes your chest ache a little - you’ve had a bad fucking day, of course something like that makes you a little mushy. It doesn’t mean anything when your mouth splits into a grin to mirror his when he sees you. 

Steve leans against his doorframe, his perfectly gelled and sprayed caramel locks set free from their styled position they’ve been trapped in all day. One hand scratches at his jaw, the dark scruff underneath at the length you won’t admit to him is your favorite. A navy dress shirt stretches across his shoulders, sleeves cuffed and rolled up his forearms. A few of the buttons are already undone, revealing a black undershirt, all tucked into his belt and gray slacks with perfect ironed creases. His feet cross as he leans back, the gold line across the black fabric reminding you that most likely, just his socks cost more than your whole outfit combined. 

“So, rough day?” He extends the glass further towards you, the silver metal of his watch glinting in the soft hallway lighting. Taking the glass from him, you gulp down half of it far too quickly for what you’re sure is an expensive bottle of wine, brushing past him into the apartment. 

“You have no idea,” swallowing another large gulp before answering. A sigh meeting a groan leaves you as your bag drops to the ground loudly. You kick off the heels you really should just throw out - well past their worn in phase and still giving you trouble. 

“Actually,” Steve laughs as he locks the door behind him, “I do. You sort of texted me a live play-by-play all day.”

Your hand waves off the statement, ignoring the truth of it with a hum around another sip of wine. Steve starts to walk around you, his hand brushing your lower back. Blunt ends of his fingernails scratch softly through the thin fabric of your blouse as your senses tune into the altered state of his apartment. The lighting more dim than usual, overhead lights turned down to a muted glow, aided by the warmth of candles flickering on his island and in the living room. Music drifts quietly and lazily out of speakers and through the air - music you like - mingling with something that smells so good your mouth waters a little. 

The glass of wine pauses before meeting your lips again as you watch Steve pick up a knife. He chops the last part of something green and leafy, brushing the food off the wood cutting board with the back of his knife into a pan that sizzles. Garlic and onion and something herby meet your nose, drawing your bottom lip to pull under your teeth. Or maybe it’s the way Steve stares at the pan with concentration, humming along to the music you only just introduced him to. He stirs the ingredients, forearm flexing as he turns the handle of the pan to the side, knocking the wooden spoon against the lip of metal a few times. 

“You cook?” Questioning him quietly from your spot by the door. 

Steve looks over his shoulder, a fake frown pulling his lips down that a smile tries to fight. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Not surprised,” you hedge, padding over towards him slowly, “Just…impressed. I don’t know if anyone has cooked for me before.”

He looks up at you, eyebrows bunching together, whatever thoughts swirling inside his brain cut off when you kiss his cheek. Steve blinks at the gesture as you wave your hand over his apartment and ask, “You did all this ‘cause I had a bad day, Harrington?”

Steve’s cheeks turn rosy despite his eye roll and laugh around a mumbled, “It’s just spaghetti.”

“Well,” you smile, noting the simple kiss and its effects for future use. Eager and curious to find out what else you can do and say to get him to blush so you can use it to your advantage, “Big fan of just spaghetti here. Thank you.”

Your wine glass hits the counter with a soft clink as your hand wraps around his bicep and squeezes, smirking as his cheeks turn a deeper pink. 

When you face him fully, Steve is already watching you, eyes tracing over your face when his lips twitch up on one side - you pushed it too far and now he’s onto you. This sort of teasing and battle for who can make the other squirm more has been the fire that’s fueled your last few nights together. 

Steve leans in slowly, his hand reaching up and cupping your jaw as he does. His thumb traces over the apple of your cheek, his warm breath hits your lips as your eyelashes flutter. Steve’s voice turns gruff and deeper because he knows it works you up as he asks, “You sleeping over tonight?”

Your head shakes despite wanting to nod as his other hand finds your waist. The smell of dinner and Steve’s spice and woodsy cologne making you dizzy as you try to stay steady in your response, “Can’t. Didn’t bring any clothes.”

Steve hums, the sound buzzing into your skin as his nose brushes up yours slowly. His hand on your waist pulls you in closer, wrapping around and pressing his palm to your lower back. His breath out mixes with yours in as your hands move on their own accord, climbing up his chest and to the collar of his shirt. His eyes a dark forest and liquid gold, smoldering as his gaze meets yours. 

“I’ll order you clothes for tomorrow.”

The ease and confidence of his promise is enough to make your stomach flip with excitement, but your eyes roll from the absurdity. Your laugh, a mixture of disbelieving and amused, is cut off though when his top lip parts yours. A soft kiss pressed to them that he quickly deepens when he feels you sigh, giving in easily. 

Sweet and tender kisses, his thumb and fingers tilt your jaw for him, making butterflies flutter alive inside of you. Steve and you haven’t kissed like this before, you can feel each shift of his fingers on your jaw and back, how his forehead furrows against yours. Mouths that mold to the others easily, slotted together like gears that work with each other instead of against now. You move with the other like second nature, almost lazy, not worried about the end goal for once, enjoying the taste of his whiskey hitting your wine with each pass of tongues and lips meeting. Until his bottom lip catches your top one in a different way, tongue rolling against yours a little dirty, making your thighs push together. 

Steve’s breath through his nose hits your cheek and your fingers grip at his collar, tugging him closer to you while his hand on your back pushes you against him harder. Soft kisses no longer, now you’re just desperate. His tongue traces your bottom lip, nipping at it gently before sucking on it. Your hands push up his neck and into his hair, fingers combing through the strands and tugging lightly as he takes a breath. It’s all so easy, the push and pull with each other, learning and using what the other likes. A whimper escapes you as his hands move to cup your face, slowing you both down, until he’s pulling away completely. 

Your eyes blink rapidly as you come back to the room, forgetting where you were for a brief moment. As his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, the sight of his eyes taken over by his pupils makes your spine radiate with heat. His fingers curl under your jaw with a firm grip on your chin as he gives you one more chaste peck. 

“Stay.”

The word is one you can’t help but chase, turning towards his lips again in search for more. Your kiss meets the corner of his mouth that threatens to smile - you hate that he’s winning. 

“Fine. But only because this wine is really good and I intend to drink the whole bottle.”

Steve’s smile kisses your skin, mouth brushing down your neck in a tantalizing graze, the scruff on his face tickling as he moves lower. “Of course. No other reason, I understand.”

He presses a kiss to the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear and your eyes practically roll all the way back, toes scrunching against the tile of his kitchen floor as your breath gets caught in your chest. Steve clocks the spot and your reaction, a low rumble from deep in his own chest as he mouths at your neck, returning to his new toy he’s found when you gasp. Wet lips and warm breath pull goosebumps to the surface of your skin, and his nose nudging behind your ear has your entire body on fire. 

Your hands push at his shoulders with a nervous laugh, forcing it all to slow down so you can regain some sort of composure and  have a chance at beating him at this game. 

“Okay, okay, I need a shower. How long till dinner is ready?”

Steve blinks at your words, hand in his hair roughing it up more as he clears his throat and stares down at your body still pressed to his, pretending not to be just as worked up as you are. “Uh, yeah, yes. Like twenty minutes.”

Pressing a quick teasing kiss to his mouth, you start to back away and he follows, hands wrapping around and clasping behind your back with a grin that says nice try.  

“Steve,” his name a laugh on your lips as he dips down to your neck again, attacking it with frantic kisses.

“Hmm?” His teeth drag on your earlobe and he smiles against your jaw as you shiver. 

“Just…” your words trail off as he starts to suck a bruise into the spot he just found, causing your eyelashes to flutter. His mouth presses another hot and wet kiss to your skin, tongue swirling and soothing the darkening mark. His hands roam up your back as you arch for him. 

It’s your turn to blink again as he stops abruptly, giving you a kiss on your nose before spinning you towards his room. “Go shower already, you stink.” He gives your ass a light pat and nudge forward.  

Your eye roll is hidden, but your hands press to your cheeks in an effort to calm down as you walk away. You did come here for sex, maybe you can let him win tonight. 

Steve’s shower is far nicer than your own. The rain head allows the warm water to flow down your entire body smoothly, and as you let your head fall back into the stream, you wonder about the detachable nozzle and how easily you could convince him to come in here and try something. The steam and calming scent of Steve’s cedar and mint shampoo is enough to unfurl your muscles and soothe your frazzled nerves that his kissing had already started to ease. Because it was the kissing and this game you play that relieved the tension inside of you, not just the company. 

The same music in his living room plays from small speakers in his bathroom too, your favorite song coming on not too long after you’ve started the shower, echoing off the dark blue tiles, the ping of water harmonizing with it. A smile twitches on your lips when you hear the added sound of the door creaking open. 

“Couldn’t stay away, huh?” Your palm swipes over the glass door, clearing condensation enough to see Steve. His back is to you as he sets a new glass of wine and a fluffy gray towel on his counter. 

“Actually,” he spins, eyes roaming over your naked form he can still catch a glimpse of through the foggy glass. His eyes sparkle as his tongue licks over his top lip, “Just getting your clothes in the washing machine.”

Your shoulders lift to your ears, stomach doing some sort of seesaw thing at the domestic and far too intimate of an act. Your voice is soft and hesitant, almost drowned out by the water, “Steve, you don’t-”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you,” he backs out the open door, pulling it closed as he gestures around the air, “The music. So loud.”

Your eyes roll again, a smile teasing at your lips as the door shuts with a soft click. A furrow forms between your brows though, deepening as you finish your shower. Your lip gnawed between your teeth as you turn the handle off, worrying that maybe you’re getting too comfortable here. 

When you step out of the shower and wrap the still warm from the dryer towel - a sweet touch from Steve - around yourself, the smile you were fighting earlier wins. The sight of Steve’s ‘Hi’ and smiley face in the fog on the mirror is too cute of a distraction to listen to any sort of logic. 

Stepping out of the bathroom, wine in hand, the smell of garlic now mixes with tomato, slipping in through the cracked bedroom door. Steve’s voice trails in quietly with it, “Hi, mom.”

You freeze, eyes widening in horror as this doesn’t seem like the greatest way to meet a Harrington parent - not that you thought about that, or want to, but as a friend of Steve’s you should probably have more clothes on. Your shoulders relax when you don’t hear a new voice responding, but Steve’s sigh and his voice again, only far less enthusiastic, “Oh, hey dad.”

Evidence of your eavesdropping forms in water dripping down your body and darkening his carpet, so, you pad into Steve’s closet, flicking the light on as you go. It’s not the first time you’ve seen the walk-in, but the sight of it still manages to steal the air out of your lungs a little. 

An overwhelming amount of the dark clothing Steve so often wears hangs meticulously in order of style and color. Blues and grays, a few deeper greens you wish he’d wear more, creams, browns, and white, then black. T-shirts then polos then button-downs - simple and nothing that would make anyone take a second glance, but you know from your own fingers that the quality of the material of each item is better than your sheets. 

Your fingertips drift lazily over the garments as you take the opportunity to linger in the space a little longer. They meet the hard edge of a dark wood dresser, a suede, gray box sitting atop. It’s compartments holding ties that are perfectly rolled and tucked into their homes. A matching organizer that holds a high school class ring, two watches - one gold and one with a dark and worn, brown leather band - along with a missing spot for the one he’s wearing. You’re certain that if you opened the drawers of this dresser you’d find his underwear and socks of the softest thread count folded and organized just as nicely - not thrown in haphazardly like your own. 

As you turn to head back for a plain t-shirt, the bright color tucked into the back corner catches your eye. It’s so different from anything in the room, from anything you’ve seen him wear. Your bare feet sink into the plush rug as you make your way to the part of the closet that looks like it doesn’t belong. 

Another small dresser, almost a nightstand, sits over here. You check over your shoulder, Steve’s voice still drifting through the door quietly and you continue inspecting. On top of the dark wood, two CD’s with Robin’s familiar hand-writing listing the songs adorning each disk. A diploma and tassel hanging from the dark frame holding it. Next to that, another framed item, an image of Steve that makes your chest tighten. You don’t think he’s too much younger than he is now in it, a dark blue graduation gown open to reveal jeans and a white button down and black tie, his grad cap squishes down his hair. Steve is shrinking in the picture, cheeks pink and biting his mouth to hide a smile, as Robin and a curly haired boy are both exploding bottles of champagne on opposite sides of him. 

Above the nightstand, the clothes are even more unfamiliar. Jeans that, though folded just as nicely as others in the closet, are a lighter wash and look well loved and worn, not like the dark denim with creases you’re used to seeing him in. Several t-shirts with various concert and event logos now fading and peeling, hang in color order again. A few sweatshirts, one with the same green and orange you know matches Robin’s band sweatshirt she says she’ll die in, sit folded next to the jeans. There’s several sweaters hung, but the culprit of your detour stands out the most. Your fingers rest on it, and as you remove it from the hanger, you’re sure something he must not wear anymore fits your needs tonight more than any of his nicer items. 

It’s not until you walk back out to the kitchen in the bright yellow sweater and a pair of his sweatpants that you think you potentially overstepped. 

Steve stands at the stove, phone pressed to his ear still, the other hovers over the pot, spoon dripping sauce as his mouth falls open. The tips of his ears turn red, matching his cheeks as you fiddle with the hem. His voice faltering into the phone, “Ye-yeah. Yes. I am dad, tonight just wasn’t gonna work.”

He smiles sadly at you, shrugging as he turns his back from the stove, maroon turning to pink on his cheeks. His hand reaches up and runs through his hair as he starts pacing. 

“Uh-huh, yeah, but-” Steve’s mouth clamps shut when he’s obviously interrupted on the other end. 

You begin stirring the sauce when you see it’s bubbling, Steve squeezes your shoulder as he passes, moving his pacing to the living room. He’s changed as well, down to just the black undershirt and dark gray sweats, the orange and yellow candle light flickers across his jaw as it tightens. He picks up a baseball from the wood buffet, fingers curling around it as his thumb spins it in his palm. 

When you glance up, his eyes travel over your body until they meet yours, sighing into the phone as he switches ears again, “Dad, I have to go, can we talk about it a different night?”

His shoulders slump, the baseball returning to the console, rolling across the top until it hits a framed photo. This one of Robin on Steve’s shoulders, pushing his hat down over his face as she tries to climb higher for an apple in a tree. 

Steve stares out the balcony glass doors, his voice strained, “I am, dad, I promise, okay? I just need a little time.” He nods once, “Mhm, bye.”

The phone lands on the counter harshly as he returns, his hand reaching for the wine glass you’re already offering to him. He gulps half of it down, not unsimilar to how you did when you first arrived. 

“So, that was your dad?” Your eyebrows raise as your gaze remains on the sauce. 

“Uh-huh,” he draws it out, sighing again as his forehead falls to your shoulder. 

“Can I ask what all that was about?” You question softly.

Steve’s head lifts, suddenly focused on pouring a second glass of wine and refilling the other as he speaks, “You could,” he turns to one of the cabinets, searching for plates, “But it’s complicated and in my opinion, a waste of one of your questions.”

“Oh really?” 

Steve spins, wincing as he faces you again and holds up two fingers, “Ooh, that’s two.” He pulls at his collar and raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. 

“Nice try,” you steal a plate from him and begin dishing up, “Not eating spaghetti topless for you tonight, Harrington.”

“Oh, but you will some other night?” He smirks, standing next to you. 

“In your dreams,” you laugh, turning to the stove again.

He sighs, long and big, “Only every night,” your snort is cut off as he keeps going, “But actually, speaking of clothes,” he spoons his own pasta onto his plate, “Went into the depths of mine I see.”

Your fingers fiddle with the hem again, recalling his face when you first came out, mood sobering. “The color caught my eye, I’ve never seen you wear this. I can take if off though, if-”

“No,” he says quickly, with a harsh swallow he adds on quietly, “Looks good on you.”

“Thanks,” dipping your head from the way he looks at you when he says it. Like he really means it and wants to see you in it more than tonight. 

Steve leans in, his hands full, so he nudges your temple with his nose until you look up at him. He presses a slower kiss than earlier to your lips, lingering for a moment before clearing his throat and pulling away. He nods his head towards the glass doors “Wanna eat on the balcony? Sunset is soon, and I thought it might be a good ending to the bad day?”

Your chest floods with warmth, something sticky and heavy that makes your mouth unable to work, holding all of your words hostage so all you can do is nod. Steve smiles and heads outside. 

“Mint chocolate chip,” he answers immediately, taking a sip of wine. 

You’re done with dinner, tucked into his small  balcony couch, the sunset has now faded from that early golden glow, tinges of orange and bursts of pink starting to break through the clouds and paint the buildings around you. Steve's legs extend to the small ottoman, yours against his thigh so you can really watch the sky. More than ten questions have been asked, but your clothes are still on, and part of you wants to admit that maybe this is actually what you needed tonight instead of sex. Maybe you just needed to have dinner, talk to a friend, enjoy the sunset. It doesn’t matter that it happened with Steve - the whole point of this was to be friends with benefits, right?

You laugh into your wine glass, “Wow, I so did not peg you as a mint chocolate chip ice cream guy.”

He grabs your ankle, tugging it lightly, “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Your shoulders lift in an innocent shrug, “I dunno, you seem kind of vanilla, Steve.”

His eyes narrow and he scoffs, grumbling into his wine glass, “Vanilla. I’ll show you vanilla.”

“What was that?” You grin. 

He rolls his eyes and stands, grabbing your empty plates. “I said, more wine?”

“Sure you did,” you nod, faux belief on your face as you hand up your glass as he passes. 

After the door latches, you pull the sleeves of his sweater down over your palms, standing and moving closer to the ledge. You’ll always love sunsets, but this view has changed them forever for you. The orange and pinks bleed together now, like two tubes of paint exploded across the sky, a perfect summer sunset. Its shimmering reflections in the lake, river, and buildings around you try to steal your breath too - almost as beautiful as the real thing. 

The city below you buzzes with summer nightlife, horns honking and bass thumping as people drive by. One of those Chicago tour boats drifts lazily by and you smirk, remembering the unfortunate yet hilarious story Robin told you about the Dave Matthews bus - so opposite of the moment you’re witnessing now. As the tour passes under the bridge you notice the couple standing in the middle, holding hands. One of them drops lower, and from the way they jump back up and spin around, holding each other, you’re certain you just witnessed a proposal. 

Steve’s shoulder presses against yours and you jump, hand over your chest. 

“Sorry,” he motions behind him, “Thought you heard the door.”

Your heartbeat rapidly pounding in your chest, you glance back to the bridge, but the happy couple is already gone. Shaking your head, you close your eyes, “No, uh, was distracted I guess.”

He eyes you curiously, fingers brushing down your arm, with a smile, “Alright, you asked me the ice cream question, so my turn.”

He spins, finger in the air when the question comes to him, “Favorite superhero?”

“Spiderman,” your answer just as confident and quick as his ice cream response. 

“Interesting,” he rubs at his jaw, “Why?”

Your shoulders shrug as you watch another boat tour go by. The words on the tip of your tongue before your brain fully catches up to them. “Um, I’m not really sure. I guess I always loved that he was kind of alone, but not really. Spiderman was lonely, protecting people he loved who didn’t know he did, but Peter was almost the opposite? He wasn’t ever fully alone despite thinking he was. He was always loved, he was just the one who didn’t see it.”

You don’t realize the power of your answer until it leaves your lips. A small piece of weight you carry lifting easily for Steve like it’s nothing. It’s almost immediate that you wish you hadn’t answered. 

Steve smiles sadly at you, his fingers pushing against the railing and bumping yours as he speaks softly, “That’s a good reason, sounds like you relate to it?”

Your cheek pulls in and you shrug again, clearing your throat and ignoring his prodding. “What about you? Got a favorite superhero?”

Lately, whatever question either of you had come up with ended up being answered by both of you, the conversation flowing that way naturally, so your sidestep of his followup questions isn’t completely out of the ordinary. 

Steve’s hazel eyes bounce between yours, and you know he wants to push it further, to get you talking more, but he doesn’t. He stands up straighter and nods, “Definitely Batman.”

You groan and laugh, shaking your head as he puts his hands on his hips and asks, “What?”

“You would like Batman. He’s not even a real superhero, he’s just rich. He has no powers.”

He points his finger in the air, “First of all, you’re wrong. Second, pretty sure some of the Spiderman comics it’s like the exact same fucking thing, so. And third, I have a good reason why I like him so,” he sticks out his tongue at you.

Your hands fall out, palms facing upward expectantly and he rolls his eyes, ripping at the skin on thumb. “I, well. I think him being an orphan is interesting. I like that he’s seen as a guardian. I don’t know, a lot of reasons…” his voice trails off as a furrow forms between his brows. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” You nudge his shoulder, grabbing the wine from him and taking a sip. Both of you touching a sensitive spot in each other with something as simple as superheroes. 

He smiles and nods, eyes focused on the House of Blues lighting up below you. 

Your own eyes watch the pink take over the orange in the sky as you drum your hands on the railing, risking a more serious question despite the mood. “I saw that picture, in your closet? Was that a college graduation? It seemed recent?”

Steve blows his breath out, sipping the wine he takes back from you, sharing the same glass as he nods. He clasps his hands together after you steal it back and stares out at the lake. “Yeah, uh, I didn’t get in, back when Robs went. But,” he licks his lips and squints, “I dunno, got this job from my dad’s connections and I just…wanted to see if I could do it alone? So I did. Sports management. Not a big deal.”

Your hand reaches out to his forearm and squeezes gently. “Steve, that is a big deal. That’s really great.”

He hums and shrugs and you press it even further, “So your parents don’t know? And your job now, that’s not-”

He laughs and drags his hands down his face, “Really, it’s not a big deal, I shouldn’t have even printed that photo. And, and the job, I don’t know. There’s this opportunity this one guy at work told me about, but my parents…” he sighs and his shoulders drop. “No, they don’t know. And my job is great. I don’t need to do anything else.”

You turn and set the wine down, your fingers wrap around his wrist. “Steve, you should have a job you love. Screw your parents or anyone who tells you differently. There’s always a way to figure it out if you want it badly enough. And, it is a big deal. I didn’t finish college. It’s a really cool and amazing thing, you should be really proud about it.”

Steve smiles, tapping the railing, speaking softly, “Thank you.” He turns to face you, hand brushing up your arm to your shoulder. “I didn’t know that about you. The college stuff I mean.”

Stepping closer to him, you shrug. “It’s not like I introduce myself and tell people that, Steve.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.” He takes a step closer too, closing the distance completely so your bodies press together. He smiles, tone lightening the mood, “I’d take off my pants in honor of the information, but I don’t have underwear on and we’re sort of exposed out here.”

Your eyes roll again as your lips fight a smile. He leans in closer, nose bumping yours as you whisper, “Wow. What a slut.”

He smirks. “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”

Your breath catches in your chest at the quote, his lips pressing to yours softly before you ask, “Wh-what did you say?”

His cheeks turn pink like earlier and he clears his throat, “Uh, I meant like, takes one to know one. Like a slut.” His eyes close and he holds up his hands, “Not that you’re a slut, what I meant was that, see…like in a good way.”

Your heartbeat starts to return to normal and you shake your head, ignoring the connection the quote made inside of you. Interrupting his Robin-like rambling and hoping to get the original plan for the evening back on track with a kiss.

Steves reciprocates quickly, tongue licking at the seam of your lips as you open up for him. Something about the gestures he’s made to fix your bad day tonight, the conversation you just had, has you more desperate than you were originally when you came over tonight. It’s all too complicated and jumbled now, and you just need your brain to turn off, and sex is the way to do that. 

His hand cups your jaw, opening you wider for him as he presses you back into the stone barrier between apartments. He rolls his hips against you, pushing harder when your hands wrap around his neck. Your clasped hands hold yourself up as his hand reaches for your thigh, pulling it up and around his waist, fingernails dragging back up and cupping your ass. Your hands move down his back as he slows his kissing again, teasing his tongue against your top lip. Nails scratch through his shirt as he moves his assault to your neck. Your body pulses around him as the sun sinks lower behind you. Steve holds your chin with his fingers as he says, “Turn around, pretty girl, you’re missing the sunset.”

Your eyes blink wide and slow at his words as he removes your leg from his waist, spinning you towards the railing. The rapid beat of your heart returns as his hands rest on either side of your body and he presses his easily felt erection into your backside. 

Steve’s nose brushes up the back of your neck, his mouth kissing across your skin till he meets your ear. His fingers glide across the band of the sweats, curling around your hip until he pushes under the fabric. 

He huffs into your skin, kissing that spot on your jaw again as two of his fingers push past your clit, slipping over it easily. “Who’s the slut for not wearing underwear, again?”

“Steve,” you whine, not patient for this sort of teasing anymore. 

He kisses down your neck, fingers parting through your slick as he glides up then lower again, the faintest graze to your clit and barely a nudge to your entrance. He tuts into your shoulder, mocking pity in his tone, the cocky man returning easily when he knows you’re this turned on, “Oh, I know. You just had such a bad day. Really need this, yeah?”

You can’t argue with him, fingers curling on the lip of the ledge, stepping closer to it. You’re sure he can feel you gushing around his fingers from just his words, how much his kissing worked you up, but you don’t care. You don’t want to fight it anymore, maybe Steve is worth just giving into. 

“Ye-yes,” you gasp out as he rewards you with figure eights pressed into your clit, your eyelashes fluttering as your knees start to buckle. “Oh, fuck.”

Steve’s breath hitches at your affirmation, kissing over your neck as he increases the strength of each press. A slow, generous circle with the pads of his fingers, rolling over the bead of vibrating nerves with an agonizing and precise pressure and pace.

“Tell me,” he kisses down your jaw, groaning at the roll of your hips back into him. Another press of his lips to your temple as his fingers circle your entrance, “Tell me what you want.”

Your head turns, chasing his kiss, catching his bottom lip with another gasp as he pushes one finger inside of you and curls, “Y-you. I need you. Please.”

Steve and your lips push and pull against each other in a battle now, harsh breaths shared as he nods, agreeing to give you what you want. He slides a second digit inside of you and curls to the spot he finds every time and you shake your head no against his mouth - that’s not what you meant.  

He moans, pressing his body up behind yours harder, back to kissing over your jaw and neck before he’s breathing in your ear. Voice raspy - dirty and filthy and everything you want as he asks, “Oh, not good enough? Jus-Just need me to fuck the bad day out of you?”

“Please,” you whisper, eyes fluttering closed at the loss of his fingers slipping out of you, “Fuck me.”

Steve’s forehead hits between your shoulder blades, wide hands pushing at fabric, and you stand on your toes, anticipation radiating throughout your body when you feel his bare length against your folds - sure you have your rules, but breaking them for one night is at the bottom of your list of thing to think about currently. He moves one of your hands to the front of your sweatpants in a silent command to hold them up. Steve nudges at your entrance, your lip tugged between your teeth unable to suppress another whine as he pushes inside slowly. His voice barely audible even in your ear, his breath too fast and too hard, overtaking his words, “Need you to be quiet, honey.”

Your head falls forward, mouth opening in a gasp as he thrusts into you. He stops, a shaky breath leaving him as you both adjust to him filling you up, relishing in the missed feeling of your bodies being connected like this. Patience wears thin though, and you push back against him, your hand gripping the balcony barrier as your eyelashes flutter when he twitches from the movement inside of you. Steve’s hands rest on your waist, holding you steady as he draws out of you, thrusting back up. 

He sets a slow pace, a dirty roll of his hips every few thrusts in and your toes curl against the balcony floor, head falling forward as you struggle not to make a sound. Steve’s mouth drags on your skin, from under one ear to the other, one hand caressing over your curves, shirt rising slightly as he ventures higher. Wide palm cupping one breast as his other holds your hip in a bruising grip. 

“Steve, harder.” Your hand reaches back behind you, yanking on his hair with a whine. Steve pushes you both into the ledge, a growl slipping past his lips. 

Steve’s thrusts pick up their pace and he breathes into your ear, a desperate and primal sound that’s more intimate and better than any sort of moan a man has ever made for you before, your name mingling with quick and short gasps for air. 

Your head falls back against his shoulder as his hand moves from your chest down your stomach, pushing his way past your hand roughly, sweatpants dropping and neither of you caring. Your cry is muffled into his sweat slicked neck as he goes even faster, feeling like he’s so deep you’ll feel it the rest of your life, his fingers press frantic circles to your swollen clit. 

“Fu-fuck, fuck, fuck,” you bite at his shirt collar, both of your hands above you in his hair, stretching onto your toes again, chasing and running away from the feeling about to bubble over.

Every nerve ending inside of you is coiled, at its breaking point - ready to crack. Steve’s hand that’s on your waist lifts, grabbing at your chin, and pulling you towards his mouth as he snaps his hips faster, stuttering their movements as he keeps working at your clit.

Warmth floods your stomach, eyes pressed tight, oranges and pinks from the sunset bursting behind your closed lids as you bite down on his lip, everything inside of you exploding as you release around him.  

“St-Steve!” 

His lips press to yours harsher, trying to silent you as he doesn’t stop his movements. Steve grunts into your mouth, cursing under his breath as his hips go even faster before they falter. His teeth drag across your bottom lip as he finally lets go, his release sending another wave of your orgasm crashing over your body. Stars blink behind your eyelids, breathless as you come back to earth. 

Both of you gasp around each other’s lips as your body tightens then relaxes around him, his hand finally stops its circles to your overwhelmed nerves when you push him away. Sounds of the city return to your ears as your head falls back against his shoulder. Steve’s hands on your waist squeeze as he breathes heavily against your shoulder before kissing it. Both of you wince as he slips out of you. 

He clears his throat as each of you pull your sweats up, his cheeks pink and yours hot. Turning to face him, your back hits the ledge as his hands fall to your sides and cage you in again.  

Steve’s face is lit up orange and gold, eyes shimmering. They’re the color of honey and brown sugar in this fading sunlight, looking at you with a gaze that’s just as gooey as he leans in with a smile. Whispering as he hovers above your lips, “Still having a bad day?”

That same sticky feeling coats your chest as you shake your head no, both of you still breathing heavily. His top lip just skims your bottom one when loudly, from a nearby balcony, the clip from ‘When Harry Met Sally’ plays: 

“I’ll have what she’s having!”

Your hand slaps over your mouth and Steve snorts, both of you dissolving into laughter as you rush back inside.

Your body heats with embarrassment, hands on your cheeks, “Oh my god.”

Steve doesn’t seem as phased, walking further into the apartment. “Hey, that’s a good movie, wanna watch it?” He laughs, running his hand through his hair. 

Any mortification forgotten at his suggestion. You spin, finger in his face, “Aha! Bad 90s romcom, told you I could smell it on you.”

He waves you off, heading toward his bedroom, “Yeah, yeah, go make some popcorn miss can’t keep her mouth shut!”

“Me!” You scoff, following him, “Um, what was all that grunting! And breathing and-”

He cuts you off with a slow and deep kiss. Tongue flicking over yours dirty and rough, pulling away with a sharp inhale. “Tell me you didn’t like it.”

His words freeze you, and you stand together in his apartment, lit only by candlelight and the sunset that’s dipped below your eye line. Breaths mixing, bodies pressed together and Steve kisses the spot below your ear - one slow, sweet kiss that lingers before he pulls away. 

He smirks at your dazed expression, calling over his shoulder, “Your favorite movie snack is in the cupboard!” Disappearing into his bathroom. 

It’s just sex, that’s all this is. 

That’s what you tell yourself as your legs turn from jelly to some sort of working limb as you make the popcorn. 

That’s what you tell yourself as he settles in next to you on his couch, tossing the yellow knit blanket from Robin over your laps. 

That’s what you tell yourself in the morning, when he’s in the shower and a delivery comes with clothes that fit you perfectly. 

It’s just sex. Fun. That’s all this is. 

That’s what you tell yourself as you slip on a brand new pair of heels and he kisses your forehead, reminding you with a wink that his balcony is always open after a bad day. 

WCIL taglist: @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii

[demialwrites]

Butterfly in a Jar Ch 5

AO3 Link

Pet play, manipulation, no prior discussion of boundaries

You get up on your knees to allow you to open his suit jacket. You might as well see what your new puppy looks like and use some positive reinforcement while you're at it. He watches your hands work, as they next unbutton his dress shirt. And of course, there's an undershirt in your way. Your turn to tut, pulling it up. He has to undo his belt for that, but you grab his arm after in case he gets the idea to undo more.

“What other people wouldn't give to sit on a Shinra lap,” he says lightly, an obvious suggestion hidden underneath.

“I wasn't sent here to-” You stop, about to gag.

“To what?”

You can't believe you have to complete the disgusting sentence. “Continue the family line.”

Rufus is unbothered by your disgust. “You had me fooled.”

“Oh? And how many sat on your lap?”

“I'll tell you my number if you tell me yours.”

The conversation has taken a stupid turn. You slip your fingers under the collar and spread your fingers, digging them into the skin. When you let go, he had been holding his breath so he breathes out and goes silent, pacified for now. You lower your attention to his chest. Judging by his softly defined pectorals currently at rest, he's been using the workout equipment, but he's been neglecting the proper diet to go with it. It looks like he went into a cutting phase too early without much bulking.

You slide your seat back but not far enough to where he was suggesting prior. After spending all its time hidden under layers of clothes, his skin is soft and you have to feel it under your fingers. You run your hands gently over his skin, paying particular attention to the area below his neck, making him softly exhale and relax even more. He's as blindingly pale as you would have guessed, after being stuck on this floor with no windows. There are a few light brown moles scattered across his abdomen. A sparse trail of coarse, blonde hair leads south. You brace your other hand on his collarbone area and teasingly flick a nipple with the other. Even with barely any attention on one, its twin perks up, as well. He's sensitive, suggesting it's been a while. You lean down to suck on it, enjoying the dimpled and velvety texture on your tongue.

He swallows a groan, adam's apple disappearing briefly beneath the collar. That naturally leads your mouth to his neck, intending to suck and leave a mark below the line of the collar. The hand not on his collarbone gropes on its way downward but sadly, there isn't much to dig your fingers into. You're thinking that's something you will have to work on when you catch the rustling of clothing. You grab his arm again before he has a chance to touch himself through his trousers. He yanks it from your grip in frustration.

“What is this?” he asks, treating you to yet more sarcasm. “A belly rub for the dog on the floor?”

Before you can ask if he's heard of foreplay, he hooks his limbs on your body and pulls you down, rolling you under him.

“That’s better,” he whispers, leaning down towards your neck, perhaps to return the favour.

No one told you he could do things like that. Maybe he picked up a few tricks from being stuck down here with the Turks. The nipple you previously gave loving attention to, finds itself being pinched between your fingernails. Rufus sags on his arms, moaning in your ear.

“Get. Off.”

He backs off, kneeling next to you, hands held palms facing you. You read confusion and disappointment on his face before he tucks it behind a cold expression.

“Why are you really here?” he sneers. “You're not here because you want to be, are you?”

“That's not entirely true.”

You had considered a more vague and less truthful answer before settling on that one. Give too much information and he could use it against you later. But he's also direct and might appreciate that from you.

He stands, silently fixing his clothes. He eventually turns to you with sparkling eyes and a smile. But not one that's happy. One that makes you think, Here is the Vice President of Shinra. The self-centred one that plays games with people to get what he wants. Like his father yet not. Your heart skips a beat, in fear and excitement.

Rufus agrees to tone down his obsession to keep you from getting in trouble. You ask what he wants in return.

“You,” he simply replies.

He did say you were his type but that's still a shock to hear. And there's no way he's going to roll over this easily. Even so, it's been hard enough getting a handle on him. If he gets too attached, that would just create new problems. But you doubt that’s the case here. He speaks as if he can just acquire you like he might buy an object by handing over a sum of money.

Your face contorts in disgust again. “I’m not interested in being another one of those…”

You don’t finish the sentence but judging by the inclination of his head, he understands. Another one of those you slept with and probably discarded immediately after. Probably people numerous and of all kinds. Okay, your thoughts are probably running away with themselves.

“What?” he laughs. “You want to be special?”

“No. I want you to behave,” you say, emphasizing the last word because he still isn't hearing it.

“Once again, I ask, do you want to be special? I’ve spent my entire life behaving how I want to get what I want. Why should I stop for you?”

You feel the mask slip. All the frustration at his behaviour, and this situation, that had been accumulating inside you has reached the limit. The cornered animal energy you were running on has run out. You have to turn around or risk him seeing you fighting back tears. The way you try to swallow it down and control your breathing probably tips him off, anyway. You can’t just do your job and go home? Why does this stubborn brat have to risk your life and ask you about being special? It’s confusing. And this is all for his benefit, anyway. This whole time you've been wrestling with each other for control and right now he’s winning. This doesn’t just hurt your pride, it makes you feel beaten down and tired.

“I’m done,” you finally say.

“No, you're not.”

It doesn’t matter why he says it. The assuredness with which he says it pisses you off.

“Shut up.”

Your next thought is a stretch but you’re desperate. You whip back around before your second wind has a chance to die down. You don't know what obnoxious expression he has because you can’t stand to look at his face. Right now, it's all obnoxious. He doesn’t stop you from hooking the leash on the collar, making you think you’re right. You wrap the leash around the back of your hand twice and drag him over to the bed. He doesn’t stop you, again, but he doesn’t exactly help, either, choosing to stumble awkwardly. Stubborn until the end, it seems. When you get there, you struggle and strain, getting one of the legs of the bed off the floor just enough to slip under the loop on the end of the leash. You push him down into a seated position on the bed using a hand on his shoulder.

You see now that Rufus has, conveniently for you, left the handcuffs on the floor next to the bed. You snatch them up. You have one of his wrists inserted into one of the metal loops when he starts up again.

“I was wondering-”

“Shut up.”

You tighten the handcuffs, remembering to stop short of actually hurting him at the last second. The rapid clicking they make is almost orgasmic to your ears. Unlike this brat’s voice right now.

“-when I’d see some real fire. You should have-”

“Shut up!”

You pull the black cloth from his neck. It’s a silk scarf, because of course it is. You stuff it in his mouth. It easily goes past his lips but his teeth provide some resistance. With the force that you have to use to push past them, you run into his tongue and end up making him gag. Choking on his own stubbornness, as it were. Now that his wrists are bound, he can’t take the scarf out. All he has left is his eyes to taunt you with.

You sigh out the rest of your lingering frustration before shouting, “Couldn’t you just behave?!”

He tilts his head curiously, smiling with his eyes. Don’t you know me by now? Of course not.

“Ugh!”

You use the last dregs of your creative energy to pull the pillowcase off his pillow and down over his head. Now he looks ridiculous, harmless, and like you kidnapped him in his own room. You smile a little.

“Is this too much? Should I let you out?” you ask, remembering to be somewhat responsible.

He tilts his head in the same way as before.

“Okay, but remember that I gave you the option. I'm going to get my book and read now.” And you'd better be ready to behave when I'm done.

You sit back on the bed with the novel in hand so that he knows you're nearby. You were half-tempted to go find Tseng to complain but you wouldn't be here if he could do anything about it in the first place.

You're engrossed in the novel, too emotionally drained to concentrate on anything else. You look down and find Rufus has laid himself on his side, head in your lap. Your hand has already placed itself on the side of his head. You turn to the next page.

Forty-five minutes later, you slide the pillowcase off. Rufus blinks, squinting at the sudden increase in brightness. You realize now that you didn't need to put the end of the leash under the bed leg but you were feeling extra petty in the moment.

“Well? Are you going to behave?”

He rolls over onto his back, looking up at you. He yawns, then replies in a subdued tone, “Since you keep insisting.”

Your earlier agreement, the one before he pushed you past your limit, hasn't changed. He will eat all his meals and sleep eight hours a night.

“I only need seven,” he’d interjected.

Whatever. He behaves and you agree to stop asking Reno to drag him out of the forbidden room. However, a new issue arises the next day at breakfast.

[illwynd]

What direction would you have enjoyed most for Thor and Loki after TDW?

I recall in the long dry years between TDW and TR, a large part of the conversation in the fandom around this topic was on how pissed off Thor would be when he learned that Loki hadn’t actually died and had kept that fact from him (or “faked his death,” however you wanna phrase it) and how much trust would have to be rebuilt. And there is definitely that aspect of it. I think there was trust that needed to be rebuilt on both sides, in fact, and many long-overdue conversations about everything that had gone wrong to get them to that point. Conversations about Loki’s ancestry and his miscalculation with the Destroyer and all the questions Thor didn’t ask when Loki reappeared and not visiting him in the cells and ancient resentments and so many other things. 

But most of the fandom, in the discussions I’ve seen, seems to have been hoping for resolution between them, for things to get all healed and tied up in a tidy little bow and have their character arcs just ride off into the sunset and… yeah, I don’t want that. I never wanted that. There is way too much emphasis these days on “healthy” and “wholesome” and, goddamn, like what are y’all doing looking at these two if you’re looking for therapist-approved wellbeing? You’re digging in the wrong place. (Something that I feel is carried over from Norse mythology into their characters is the idea that there is value and importance in lives that don’t have a Happily Ever After, worlds ending in destruction and final defeat but with a deep integrity to what mattered. The world doesn’t promise healing. Sometimes, living with the knowledge that things will not be fixed in the end but it all matters anyway, and the connections between people matter, and the ability to find flickering moments of joy amidst the sorrows… to me that is far better, far more fitting to who they are than any tidy, happy resolution could ever be.)

One of the things that I love about many of their comics arcs is the sense that while things do change between them over time, with different emphases coming into focus and into prominence, there is an essence to both of them that keeps them in perpetual conflict and ALSO keeps the love strong enough that neither of them ever wants to go their separate ways permanently. They both have their own lives, with Thor doing his best at heroing and Loki doing his best at being himself, but Their Relationship is a constant, and it’s nobody else’s business, and whether they’re on opposite sides in their daily lives doesn’t really factor into it. 

So basically, in my ideal world in which phase 3+ didn’t suck, TR would have involved some of those long-overdue conversations and some working together against a bigger bad, but the kiss-and-make-up would have been incomplete, like an unresolved chord at the end of a phrase of music. Loki would have disappeared again but this time making sure Thor knew he wasn’t dead, and he’d have popped up again from time to time, always with uncertain allegiances, to have a few poignant interactions with Thor, or to absolutely destroy some big bad that’s threatening Thor’s life but in the meantime doing something that makes it seem like he got some material gain out of doing so (just to keep everyone on their toes), and if anyone questions this in Thor’s presence you’d get a very stormy look and a subtle suggestion that he doesn’t have to be slumming it on Earth. 

Loki would be there to be The Most Important Person in Thor’s life even when he’s not physically present, and the niggling itch that never quite goes away from the fact that things aren’t resolved and may be unresolvable. (Having a relationship like that—where it is possible or likely that things can’t be fixed—is actually really important to telling Thor stories that have emotional weight. Resolving the relationship or making the question null through death cuts off so many of the important questions that cling to Thor in themes and resonances. To a character who embodies the virtue of striving for heroism and goodness, an unquenchable love for such a liminal character as Loki, whose moral standing flits all across the field at any given moment, and having Thor see that not as a problem, as a liability or an inconsistency but instead as a value in itself—that keeps Thor from becoming an insufferable, inflexible moral pedant.) And Thor—Loki’s love and devotion to Thor, mingled with his resentment of him and the lingering frayed edges of his trust and the centuries-old anger and desire to win against him just once—would be there to rest like a base color underpainted beneath everything Loki does in his schemes and clever workings and, a gnarled anchor or a rusted root, keep him from wandering too far afield.

And, I mean, they’re gods. If you carry any story on long enough it ends in death, but in a story of superheroes and modern legends, the gods should still be there in the end, at the edge of the tale, perhaps, but continuing nonetheless, spinning against the stars, the huge half-invisible shadows of giants bordering the far horizon, the cycles of their lives so much longer than ours.

[autisticlalna]

Skyblock Kingdoms species headcanons: expanded edition

okay so a while ago i had a post with an overview of my headcanons for the SBKers, but it was very basic bc i only had ideas for a few people . however, here is me now going completely insane. enjoy

Dark Oak:

Viking:

catboy. has ears under his hat, which is why he never takes it off.

i cant decide if he has a tail or not. itd make sense with the catboyism but not with the "able to hide it" thing

sometimes partially phases through things, and his elytra wings arent fully tangible. also: elytra are Very green.

not a species headcanon but, as is typical for when i write about Vikings: his compass points somewhere, and that somewhere is Down. if he holds his compass horizontally, the needle spins in place, but otherwise it's always pointing to the Void.

Fix:

is extremely normal. like, normal to the point where everything else just kinda.. fizzles out.

(Milkman is able to push it, but still doesn't get a strong reaction.)

if it somehow canceled out, something would be extremely up with Fix. like, this guy is Not human, hes just been made human by... whatever is causing this.

i don't know what he'd be, though. ccViking mentioned gryphon and i think that's fun considering there's a few other mythical creatures in here, but Solar has also been prodding me with the alien Fix agenda so

Cherry:

Rubyco:

pointy-eared allay hybrid

...although that's usually overwritten by her mimicry. shifts species and aesthetic often to better blend in with whoever xe's spending time with

might be an issue related to the timeline instability-- bleedover from other timelines where he's island partners with someone else instead of Vintage.

hair is made of gemstones, and injuries can show up as cracks or chips to reveal crystal underneath. (so, basically the same as my take on tRuby.)

has allay wings, obvs

Vintage:

dryad and guardian of the cherry grove biome

the original cherry tree on the island was Her Tree, and has now regrown into the big tree

i keep thinking [elora from spyro voice] "im a FAUN you dork" so . i guess she's a faun also??? dryad taking form of a faun

LUNA MOTH WINGS. I NEARLY FORGOT

what if a deer was a person. and pink. and a tree. and a luna moth. and had cherry blossoms growing on her. and was bi

Jungle:

Avid:

has everything wrong with him.

i dont know how to describe whats going on with Avid besides "it was BAD". the deeper he got into dark magic the more screwed up he got mentally and physically

got a white hair streak from stress of being trapped in incendium and his eyes gradually went from purple to red after selling his soul

nonhuman in the sense of "was human once and we have no idea what the hell he is now"

now he's monkey! this is an improvement. still has the hair streak though, and his eyes look red in some lighting

Doovid:

the actual only human on the entire server. Fix doesn't count

..and now he's monkey! oops lmao

im gonna be real most of my headcanons for who he is and where he came from are gonna hinge on me remembering to rewatch Shadow of Israphel. thanks mallow <3

full title Skylord Doovid, although nobody calls him that

elytra are a wood-and-canvas style glider

Birch:

Fool:

ex-human

covered in cracks and held together by gold seams, like broken pottery

bleeds liquid gold

can be mistaken for a marble statue if he stands still.

he's still flesh and.. uh, not blood, but looks a bit Off

Milkman:

gestures. WHAT DO I DO WITH THIS GUY

mimic shapeshifter like Ruby but, like. worse. guy who has realized he can use his abilities For The Bit and has never looked back

cannot be killed in a way that matters

Bamboo:

M1G:

humanoid alien with pointy ears, a tail, and bioluminescent freckles

eyes and blood also glow. M1G is very glowy.

has paws :3

dragon elytra

Kale:

space piiiiig

anthropomorphic, can be easily mistaken for a piglin

has the gift of opposable thumbs

Mangrove:

Marmalade:

ccRuby mentioned the idea of Marm having hooves and i think that's neat.

drifting further away from human the more times she falls into the Void

maybe some demon vibes? idk. in the category of "not a specific species, just has nonhuman traits" but Avid probably considers her demonic lmao

eyes have a slight glow. when doing magic or listening to the Void, the glow gets brighter / her eyes entirely change color and have a light trail

Tea:

kitty :3

like. Viking is catboy. Tea is cat.

Acacia:

Trog:

human... right?

not human. eldritch entity that's knitted itself together into a human form. either the original Trog is still in there somewhere, or was never there at all.

glowing eyes, sharp teeth, face always somewhat in shadow. movement either too fluid or too stiff. nearing the uncanny valley

has triangle pupils and their eyes reflect light like a cat's

bleeds black gunk (if they remember to bleed, anyway)

is "stuck" as human, but when stressed, too close to the Void, or losing focus they can start to glitch out into a chaotic mess of triangles and polygons until they're grounded again

Kittrix:

red panda hybrid! ears, tail, paws

very sculk-y under the hoodie. has the exposed soul-heart-cage thing the Warden does

sensitive to sound, but hasn't made the connection that it's a sculk thing and thinks she just has misophonia

completely unbothered by everything Wrong with Trog. it's all perfectly normal, says entity who is also not normal in any way shape or form,

Spruce:

Acorn:

was previously a squirrel in a raccoon mask

after the void jump, she's now just like.. kinda a mishmash of small winter-y animals. squirrel, ermine, fox, snowshoe rabbit, etc

congratulations! youve gotten promoted to "embodiment of winter". im sure that wont have consequences

does not have facial features under the mask. it's fine she doesn't need them where she's going

has arctic tern elytra wings

sculk is still surface-level, but it keeps regrowing when she tries to pry it off

Anathra:

android, looks human unless you play close attention - most SBKers haven't figured it out yet

used to overheat easily (especially with glasses off), but after his hair started changing color he's now freezing cold to the touch

glasses are an external attachment that lock into place, so Anathra taking them off is Very Intentional and they can't be knocked off by accident

is usually able to repair himself, but sometimes has to go to Trog or Neon for help

currently unbothered by the sculk, although he's getting a bit concerned about what damage it might do to his components if it continues spreading

Mushroom:

Elffe:

solar i am holding a hand out to you. elffebrine

(translation: what if Elffe was Herobrine. glowy eyes, teleportation, cryptid energy)

has mushrooms and crimson vines growing on him. that's probably fine

in contrast to Spruce being unnaturally cold, Elffe is unnaturally warm. radiates heat, melts snow and ice, etc

Artemis:

god i wish i knew literally anything abt artemis. please log back on all i know is that fallow thinks youre cool

End:

Neon:

cyborg, but in a cassette futurism way. 90s clunky electronics.

hard to tell how much of him is organic and how much isn't. has large bulky metal parts, but also faint lines of neon green circuitry that show through his skin.

is a bit run-down and weathered after being stranded with Leon. he was starting to rust :(

Leon:

chinstrap penguin :3

non-anthropomorphic because it's funny. scaled up to be average human size, though

has ender particles drifting off him

slowly transforming into more of an End creature because of his dependence on chorus fruit

[jaybe-jaybe-not]

Fill in the Gaps - Chapter 2

Jayce wins the council over. He gets his record expunged and receives a patent for Hextech and he steps into his new lab for the first time and is immediately seized with a sick feeling deep in his chest that something isn't right. - Jayce Talis is being haunted.

He can't remember his name when he first wakes up. Can't remember if he ever had one. Can't remember if he deserves one. Air is like honey, thick to move through and impossible to breathe.

He thinks, maybe, once, he used to be a person.

He wonders, constantly, if it matters.

-

He remembers a name.

He says it in a voice hoarse with disuse, cracking under the weight of time or maybe space or maybe something like love or maybe just death. If he's dead. He can't quite tell.

The name is 'Jayce' but it doesn't belong to him and something is really wrong and he thinks it's him. He's the thing that's really wrong. Or was. Or was, at least, the cause of it.

Things do start getting a little clearer after he finds Jayce.

Before, everything sounded like it was underwater—he couldn't make out any words, just muddled voices as he wandered through hallways, streets, with half a mind and even less of a soul.

Unless he's all soul, now. Again, Viktor can't quite tell.

That's his own name—Viktor. It comes to him gradually after a few days of quietly watching Jayce. He hears it, in his mind, in Jayce's voice. It's a memory, he thinks, or part of one at least. It's nice. He likes Jayce's voice, it's…warm. Familiar. Especially when it says his name.

His name is Viktor. And that…is about the extent of what he knows about himself for a while.

He peeks over Jayce's shoulder to watch him write—Jayce shivers whenever he touches him, which makes Viktor's heart leap, because he can feel him. He's being perceived, if only slightly. Viktor watches Jayce do math. He watches Jayce stop doing math and put his head on the table. Viktor cocks his head at the notebook, mulling over the equations. On the adjacent page there's a crudely-drawn diagram with chicken scratch labels he can barely read. Viktor would assume Jayce would put more effort into his notes than this. But whatever. He doesn't really know much about him anyway.

But the math, that he knows. There's a discrepancy between the formula Jayce is using and the notes Viktor remembers from a few days ago. Easily fixable; he doesn't know why Jayce hasn't noticed it yet. Instinctively, Viktor tries to pick up the pencil to fix it. Obviously, this isn't successful. His fingers phase through it easily. He sets his jaw. If Jayce can feel it when Viktor touches him, he's somehow capable of interacting with the world around him. This has to be possible if he tries hard enough.

Viktor focuses all his energy into the task, willing his fingers back into existence with all his strength.

He does it. Well, he doesn't quite pick the pencil up, but he causes it to roll off the table, and given it's the first time he's actually moved a physical object since he woke up, it's still quite a victory. Can he move other things?

Viktor tries again with a pen to the same success. He knocks a book off the bookshelf. Jayce flinches and goes to pick it up and then Viktor…falls asleep.

-

He can't have been gone for any longer than an hour or two. But he hadn't meant to go to sleep and he can't even remember feeling all that tired in the first place before it happened.

Startled, Viktor looks down as if he's expecting to see himself. Of course, he doesn't. There's nothing there.

The startled feeling doesn't go away. Something isn't right here. He doesn't know what the falling asleep randomly thing means but he knows it can't mean anything good.

Viktor's non-existent head hurts. The lab is empty; Jayce has gone home. Having followed him there before, that's where Viktor heads too. It's not like there's anywhere else for him to go.

Viktor goes to Jayce's apartment and stares at him for a few moments. What exactly is his plan here? To follow this random man around quietly stalking him for the rest of his life? Viktor doesn't even know who this random man was to him.

Well, he's got some idea. He still doesn't have any full memories but he's gotten flashes, a passing image on occasion, a sentence, maybe.

("Am I interrupting?") ("Why would you risk this?") ("Our Hextech dream.") ("Viktor, you're my partner!") ("To cling to principles-") ("Our paths diverged long ago.") ("Let us instead do this once again as partners.") ("My partner…died in this room.")

He doesn't understand most of it. Some of it is nice. But a lot of it, he'll look at himself, at the brief flashes he gets, and think that cannot possibly have been me.

Maybe…it's not. He has no way to know what exactly he's seeing. Are they memories? Maybe they're just hallucinations, conjurings of his subconscious as it desperately tries to make sense of what he is now, driven half mad from this pale wandering mostly-nothing barely-a-life he's experiencing.

He's so lonely.

Passively watching Jayce and the few people around him isn't doing it for him anymore, Viktor needs to be seen.

He practices interacting with physical objects, knocking more books off shelves, pencils, pens, papers, whatever, he doesn't care that it's freaking Jayce out, he's getting impatient.

"I'm right here," he wants to scream, sometimes he even does even though he knows no one can hear him. "I'm right here, please talk to me, look at me, something."

He'll touch Jayce, making him shiver and pull his blanket tighter around his shoulders, there has to be some way to reach him. Because if there's not…

The more time goes on, the harder it is to stay awake. The lengths of time he sleeps for are getting longer. Sometimes he's gone for days. Someday he won't wake up. He knows this.

There's a muddled panic in the place where his chest should be, an ugly desperate feral creature clawing at him from the inside screeching do something do something do something you are running out of time.

Part of him thinks he needs to stay away. To let himself fade, because he knows that if he was ever even supposed to be here in the first place, he's not anymore. But another part of him, maybe a selfish part, is too scared to fade. He wants to fight and claw his way back into existence no matter if he's supposed to or not.

Please. Give me a second chance.

-

One night when Jayce is gone Viktor stares at the chalkboard for a long moment before picking up the piece of chalk.

He drops it about twenty times but he finally manages to write down his corrected version of the equation Jayce has been using.

He goes back to sleep.

-

"They're almost through—no pressure."

"That sounds like pressure!"

Jayce's hand hovers over the dial that controls the matrix for a moment, taking a deep breath before he begins shifting through runes.

Viktor watches, eyes trained on the crystal as it spins, watching as each rune activates, forming patterns; it spins faster, resonance increasing, particles flying, energy increasing the banging at the door gets louder…

He does it.

There's a huge surge of energy seconds before the enforcers finally break into the room, and they're…floating.

The room is encased in a stillness like a sigh, particles suspended in the air. Oh, wow. This is incredible. Jayce is laughing. He pushes a cog through the source of the spell towards Viktor. It crackles with residue from the magic as he catches it, stares at it in awe for a moment. He and Jayce lock eyes.

-

By the time he wakes up it's almost noon the next day. His vision is a little blurry. Something's not right. (Nothing's ever right.) (Nothing's ever been right.)

He knows what to do now, though.

After a few days, the moment Jayce leaves for the night Viktor gets to work. It takes him nearly the entire night, but he manages to write a set of equations and draw a diagram for Jayce.

He goes back to sleep.

-

"We present to you the next chapter of Hextech."

"We can now design portable devices." Jayce fits the gauntlet prototype on his arm. "The gemstone can power virtually anything."

He powers it up, taking a hunk of rock in his hand and crushing it.

"The Atlas Gauntlets. The mining colonies in the fissures can work faster and without fatigue."

"The Hex Claw," says Viktor. "A mechanical arm equipped with a powerful ray of light." He uses the glove to laser an image of Heimerdinger into another slab of rock. "Imagine what our artificers could do with such a device."

"I want Hextech to be a tool for us to build a new world," says Jayce. "And now, it's finally possible."

"This is our presentation."

"Quite amazing, gentlemen! You should be very proud," Heimerdinger praises. Jayce and Viktor smile at each other briefly. "Obviously there are a few kinks to iron out and screws to be tightened, but give it a decade of careful research, and it will be ready."

There's a sinking feeling in Viktor's stomach. "A decade?"

"Oh, don't worry, my boy. It zips past you in the blink of an eye."

Viktor draws in a breath, feeling the ache in his lungs, the wheeze deep in his chest, the fatigue setting into his creaking bones, he hasn't said anything, to anyone, but Viktor is almost certain that he is not going to survive another decade. Do something do something do something you are running out of time.

"With respect, Professor…we can be improving lives with Hextech now!"

"A breakthrough like this takes time, Viktor. Putting that kind of power into everyone's hands is dangerous. Keep at it, and I'm sure you will discover a way to safeguard Hextech against misuse."

Viktor starts after Heimerdinger. Jayce gently holds an arm out to stop him. He doesn't get it. He doesn't know why moving as quickly as possible is so important to Viktor. But he couldn't, anyway. Viktor hasn't said a word about it.

It's alright, he says silently, we don't need his approval.

(I just need yours.)

-

Viktor has been trying not to judge, but. Okay. This is getting a little pathetic.

Jayce wanders around aimlessly with this sad look on his face like a lost puppy, getting distracted, moping, procrastinating, staring off into space…

Honestly. Get it together.

He goes home and cries after he uses Viktor's equations and runs the experiment. Viktor's not really sure what to make of this. This person is nothing like the Jayce from his memories.

As admittedly pathetic as this Jayce's behavior has been, Viktor can't help but feel a tightness in his chest as he watches him press his face into his pillow to try and muffle his quiet sobs. Viktor can't even tell what he's crying about. Neither, he suspects, can Jayce.

Viktor steps closer to the bed, reaching out to touch him but stopping himself. He can't offer any comfort like this. All he'd manage to do would be make Jayce cold and confused. He just stands there, watching him, wondering what he would even do in this situation if Jayce could see him.

Jayce rolls over and wipes his face and then he looks directly at him.

He's done this before, only for Viktor to realize in disappointment he's just staring into space and happens to be looking in his direction. But this time Jayce looks at him and reacts. He sits straight up in bed, mouth dropping open slightly and breath going shallow for a moment.

Then, he lies back down again.

Viktor stands there, heart still pounding. "…Jayce?" he croaks.

No response. He watches as Jayce's breathing slows down and shallows as he falls asleep.

He creeps forward.

That…wasn't a coincidence. Jayce had to have seen him just now.

He hovers right over him, hesitating for a long moment.

Viktor puts his hand on the side of Jayce's face. Jayce stirs in his sleep a little, brows furrowing ever so slightly. He doesn't shiver.

His hand remains there for a long moment. And then, it sinks into his head, and Viktor's heart jolts as he's suddenly flooded with an intense feeling of loneliness and confusion and fear.

He removes his hand. The feelings linger a little but they fade quickly. He sticks his hand back into Jayce's head. The feelings return.

They're not his, he realizes, they're Jayce's. He's experiencing Jayce's emotions. They're a little blurred and unclear, but maybe that's because he's asleep. What if he did this while he was awake? Would be be able to hear his thoughts, too? Would Jayce be able to hear his? Would Jayce be able to hear him?

He tries it the next day when Jayce wakes up. It doesn't work. He thinks maybe it could, but he would need to overlap with more than just his hand.

-

("You have any idea how this looks? I order a blockade and my own partner violates it?") ("They're dangerous!") ("I'm from the Undercity.") ("Viktor- the doctor said…") ("How much time do I have?") ("I must say goodbye to this place. To you.")

He still doesn't have all the pieces. He still doesn't understand what happened, how he got…removed, from reality, or why, or why he's still here, or if he should be, but he knows he wants to be. And he knows Jayce was his partner, is his partner, will be again, he doesn't want to fall asleep again, he doesn't want to fade.

Viktor scatters a pile of paperwork over the room, knocks over a stack of books, please, look at me, I'm right here-

He touches Jayce's spine, feeling him shiver, taking a deep breath…

Then he steps into his body, merges them together, inhabits him, feels him, Jayce drops to his knees, yelping, clutching his head, everything is so loud, the two of them clashing together, he feels like he's being ripped apart but he doesn't dare separate, this is the only way-

Finally there's a lull of silence. Viktor speaks. Can you hear me now, Jayce?

And Jayce's chest heaves a few times, eyes welling with tears, words caught in the back of his throat for a painfully long stretch of time until quietly, he chokes out,

"…Viktor?"

[violetnerves]

The Rise and Fall of Jenny Hopkins, aged 15: Bully Genderbend Au/Rewrite. Chapter 1, Part 1:

So this is Part 1 of an au/rewrite I've been working on for a bit... And it ended up getting out of hand because I ended up hitting over 12000 words just for Chapter 1 alone.

As a result, I had to split Chapter 1 into 2 parts, and even after that, both parts ended up being over 6000 words. It seems like a lot to me personally, but maybe I'm wrong.

Anyway, here's a summary of the au:

In this Au/rewrite of Bully, Jimmy Hopkins is instead Jenny Hopkins, a 15 year old girl with a history of delinquent behavior. She exhibits some symptoms of Anti-Social personality disorder, even being diagnosed by a therapist with Conduct disorder.

The female cast has been expanded a bit, and some of the existing female members have been fleshed out a bit more, some of the male cast has been given some care too. As a rewrite some things have been changed about the Canon story, partly to fix a few plot holes and issues with the original that may have been caused by the original games rocky development history, though not to the point where it's unrecognizable since I do enjoy the game's original story, despite it's many faults.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy what I've written so far.

Part one of Chapter 1 starts under the divider. I'll also be posting the story on AO3, under the account: BlueEclipse7573

Total word count: 6565

Content warning for violence and strong language. If there's anymore I should list, please let me know!

'Here we go again'

I was laid back in the backseat of my stepfather's rental car, staring up at the roof. It felt as though we'd been driving for days, even though it'd been a 1 hour trip to Bullworth from the hotel at most.

"Jenny..." My mother spoke up, trying to get my attention after i'd decided to just ignore her for the whole trip. "...Please say something," her tone was aggravated at this point, annoyed that she was being given the silent treatment by her own daughter.

Yet again, I didn't want to bother with a response.

It's not like I wanted to be mean to my mom, but it was the nicest thing I figured I could do to protest against getting sent to yet another Boarding school while my mother ran off for the year with yet another one of her flings.

The silence, aside from the noise of the car, would continue on until my new step-father, who was old enough to be her mother's father, decided he was going to parent me despite the fact that I'd only known the old guy since last week, when we'd first me during my mom's wedding.

"Speak to your mother, Jane..."

*'Oh, please'*

"What? Who are you? Mom, this creepy old guy is talking to me, I think he might be one of those 'perverts' you've warned me about," I replied. Granted, the new guy - whatever his name was, mom went through men like one of those revolving doors you see in fancy and expensive hotels, so I never really bothered to catch his name - surprisingly hadn't been creepy around me, at least compared to the other men mom decided to have relations with.

Mom always did have shit taste in men.

Mom groaned, clearly being driven up the wall by my attitude at this point.

"Jenny, please be nice to your new step-father. He's not a 'pervert'."

I sat up.

"Yeah, you might be right, but he's not really doing himself any favors with the whole 'fat, old, and balding child molester' look he's got going on."

The old man sighed, and mom turned her head to look at me, her mouth twisting into a snarl. I wasn't phased, I was used to it at this point. The older woman looked like a clown with how overdone her makeup was, with her dark purple eyeshadow and lips covered in a cheap waxy red lipstick, and with a foundation that barely matched her actual skin color.

She looked so old and trashy with all that crap on her face.

"That's enough! I've had it with you, you little brat. All I want is a little peace and quiet with my new husband, and you insult him!" Mom wailed, setting a manicured hand on the old man's shoulder.

"Now look what you've done, you've upset your mother!" The old man growled. "I've got half-a-mind to beat you..."

I frowned, giving him a clear stink eye.

I knew it. Just another phony. Just like the others.

"I doubt you would, i'm sure you only do that kind of crap to the women dumb enough to marry you."

The two adults gasped.

"I can't believe you, you little monster! We'll deal with you when we get back from our honeymoon... next. year..."

Mom had left it at that, much to my relief.

Getting into arguments with mom never made me feel good, even if I did enjoy pissing off whatever awful man my old woman decided to bring into her, and therefore our lives. I didn't want our relationship to be so bad. She was my mom after all... So why couldn't she just act like it for once?

It was sooner rather than later when the car slowed to a stop, and I looked out toward the large, foreboding entrance to the school I'd be stuck in for an entire school year.

The entrance to the school was a large, old-fashioned, dull red and white stone archway, the red color clearly faded a bit with time and wear. Chipped into the stonework near the top of the structure were the words "BULLWORTH ACADEMY." The dark Iron gate doors were wide open, yet I couldn't help but think they looked the complete opposite of inviting. Like a fancy jail cell.

"Finally..." The old man sighed heavily with relief.

*'Yeah, feelings mutual you shriveled old bastard'*

"Here we are, young lady, Bullworth Academy, just the kind of place a girl like you needs."

I pushed open the car door, grabbing my purse on the way out. I didn't even bother to spare a glance at the two adults behind me in the car.

"Have fun, Jenny! I'll think of you from our cruise ship!"

Mom giggled in response to her new husband's goodbye, but all I could give was an eye roll in response.

"Whatever," I muttered, shutting the back car door behind me.

The car revved, and the vehicle left the property entirely. Against my better judgment, I turned and watched as it drove off the premises.

I couldn't help but wince, accidentally letting the hard, emotional barrier I'd built up over the years crack a little.

"Mom, why'd you marry that phony? What is wrong with you?" I asked no one but myself. A question that already had an answer, and one I'd asked so many times before.

Mom married that old fart for protection, for money, and just because she wanted to. Getting a good husband for herself and a good father never was a factor for her to consider, not with how much of a revolving door her love life was. I hadn't been a priority to her for the last 10 years. It was always going to be just *her* needs.

So what *wasn't* wrong with her?

"I can't believe this..." I said to no one. A lie, really. One I'd said way too many times.

And I'd probably keep saying it for as long as I lived.

I was so caught up in wondering why I still wanted to defend my mom from her own awful decisions that I hadn't noticed the clicking of heels against concrete slowly growing louder.

"You must be the Hopkins girl,"

I jumped and turned, taken aback.

"Huh? Where'd you come from?"

It was a woman who was doing a bad job of looking younger than she actually was. She wore a dark, long-sleeved dress shirt with a matching pencil skirt. Her hair was done up a bit, curled up into rolls at the ends. In general, the woman had a very... old-fashioned look to her, as if the act of stepping out of my stepfather's rental car had sent me back in time a few decades.

"We've been expecting you, welcome to Bullworth Academy... (sigh)," the well-dressed woman said, putting an odd emphasis on the word Bullworth as well as raising and dropping her arms in a slow, dramatic arc as she did.

*'So weird'* I let the thought hover a bit.

"I'm sure you'll be happy here, very happy indeed..." She shrugged, "Anyway, I can't spend my life waiting around for naughty little girls... I've got a *man* to make happy"

*'Yeesh, you already remind me of my mother. That can't be a good sign.'*

"The Headmaster is expecting you Hopkins, in his study,"

"Ok, I'll go see him then," I replied. I then immediately turned and walked in the opposite direction of the school.

"Oh no, no, no, his study is over *there* girl, in the main building?" The over dressed woman adruptly mentioned in a hasty manner. I frowned and turned back to the woman, who pointed a finger towards the largest building on campus.

"Right... my bad ma'am." I tugged on the strap of my purse, silently annoyed that I wasn't able to get away with fleeing and hiding out until the school year ended.

It's not like mom would've noticed if I'd done that anyway.

I walked in through the entrance to the campus, already feeling like a trapped animal despite the gates still being open.

"Don't keep Dr. Crabblesnitch waiting, he's a brilliant man... brilliant..."

The gates behind me closed, and along with it, my one chance at freedom.

The woman took off without me for some reason, and I was left to just look around the area.

In front and to my left and right were two other buildings, both two stories tall.

However, I was stopped in my tracks by a group of three male students, all of whom seemed to be lacking the sweater vests that they should have been wearing. Their dress shirts weren't tucked in and instead left to hang out. They weren't even wearing slacks either. Instead, they all wore denim jeans for pants. Were they even following the dress code for this place?

They crowded around the middle of the two routes to what I could see were the two dorms, separated by gender.

It seemed they immediately noticed me as well, eyeing me down as fresh meat, clearly noticing I wasn't wearing the uniform.

Well, things were already off to a good start. I was still near the frigging entrance!

That *had* to have been a record.

The one in front, a white blond with a pimple problem, but an oddly charming smile approached me. The two behind the blond were backing him up, a dark-skinned black guy with a rather enthusiastic tone of voice yelling excitedly at the blond to "put the new kid in an armbar" and another white guy, except he had brown hair, as well as slightly tanned with a slingshot sticking out of his front pocket. He was quietly looking over the situation, It's like he was scheming hard about something, and I had a feeling it couldn't be anything good.

I was short, even for a girl, standing at barely 4'10. So despite the blond probably being average height for a guy his age, that still meant he had the height advantage. Same for the other two guys, who were a bit shorter than the blond but still obviously taller than me.

But that didn't mean much, in my opinion. I always felt the saying, "The bigger they are, the harder they fall" was accurate for a reason.

And if he didn't want to back off, "blondie" here was going to learn why pretty damn quick.

"Hey, new girl, a pretty face like mine is expensive to care for... How about a little dono to help keep it lookin' good?" He stuck out a slightly calloused hand, palm up and in my face. The other two boys behind him chuckled as if the whole thing was just a practical joke to them. One that "I" was the butt of.

I spared a glance at his open hand and then up to the face of the boy it belonged to.

"Wash your face first fucko. You've got the little dipper growing out of your forehead," I mocked, hissing the sentence out spitefully and glaring up at the taller boy. The grip on my purse tightened a bit.

My response made the blond drop his smile. I was white-knuckling the purse strap at that point.

"Eh! Wrong answer!" the blond reached for my bag.

Friggin' idiot.

Before he could react, I grabbed the arm that was reaching out for my bag, tugging him forward. I drew my head back and slammed it on his jaw, sending him falling back as I let go of his arm.

The two boys behind him yelled something out - a name, "Trent" or something - but before they could retaliate against me, I ducked away and sprinted off in the direction of the main building.

On the way, I bumped into a few students, earning a few insults and curses thrown my way. Luck was on my side, though, as a student exited the school building just as I neared the main door. I ran in while the door was still open, and it slammed shut behind me. I let out a breath, stepping forward into the large room.

A few students had taken notice of my adrupt arrival, but only for a few seconds, because they quickly went back to their daily routines just as soon as they had stopped.

*'...I guess that could've gone worse...'* I thought, heading up the stairs and into Dr. Crabblesnitch's office.

The first room I entered into was weirdly dark, with the only bit of light coming from the ceiling of the other room, which looked to be Crabblesnitch's main office. I took a few steps inside until I was in the other room, catching Crabblesnitch's attention soon after.

The light above turned out to be a skylight set into the ceiling, illuminating the room in the sun's natural yellow glow. There wasn't any sign of artificial light in the entire room, which... gave me a few thoughts, the first being of how cool it'd be to take pictures in here. The second thought was of how comforting this place should feel... yet I couldn't help but feel so uncomfortable and tense. That clearly wasn't a good sign.

"Ah, yes, so you must be Miss Hopkins," the older man said, gesturing for me to take a seat on one of the chairs lined up right in front of his desk.

I sighed.

"Uh huh," I said, hoping to get out of this room as soon as possible.

Crabblesnitch's brow furrowed, clearly annoyed with my overtly informal reply.

"What? 'Uh huh', what?"

I grumbled quietly.

"...I meant 'yes sir'..."

"Very good, now let me see..."

I sat down as Dr. Crabblesnitch brought out a folder nearly bursting with papers, which were the documentation of my record from the last 7 schools I'd attended along with some police reports. I thought it was impressive how thick the folder was. Anyone else probably - rightfully so maybe - might've felt a bit of shame looking at it... but not me. You couldn't pay me to care really.

So it wasn't surprising that the papers pretty much smothered Crabblesnitch's desk, covering the fine maple in a sea of white. As well as some red and black, due to the pen ink on the papers.

Crabblesnitch feigned a gasp, dragging his finger over multiple spots on different papers.

"My, my, Miss Hopkins, you've done a lot of naughty things, haven't you? Vandalism, graffiti, bad language, violent conduct, disrespecting staff, a shoplifting charge, and is that..." He motioned to a particularly large bit of red writing. "Arson? Oh, I'm absolutely terrified of *you* Miss Hopkins!" Dr. Crabblesnitch concluded, feigning fear much like that gasp from earlier.

"Aw c'mon, give me a break. That last one was an accident..."

Aside from everything else. Arson was probably the one I *hadn't* meant to do, oddly enough.

Crabblesnitch didn't appear convinced.

"Regardless, I don't think I've ever met a girl like you, never in all my years! You must be the rudest little girl I've ever encountered!" He lowered himself down to meet me eye-to-eye. "Tell me, Jane, why should I waste my precious time on *you*?"

I shrugged in response.

"I dunno."

Dr. Crabblesnitch stood up straight.

"Because it's my calling! It's what I do!" The older man pointed at Jenny. "*You* excel at causing trouble..." He gestured to himself. "And while my expertise is in fixing little boys rather than little girls, I'm sure my methods could work on someone 'butch' such as you, eventually you'll be the respectable young woman that you're meant to be! I have a good feeling about you, Miss Hopkins, I'm sure you and I could grow to be great friends..."

*'Sure, whatever you say.'* was my first thought. Okay, not really. My first thought was actually: *'Did he just call me 'butch'? What does that even mean? That's a name, isn't it?'*

Regardless, I was able to see through this guy like glass. I was sure the Dr's definition of a "respectable woman" was probably a few decades passed.

I was starting to see a pattern...

"Now, you keep that nose clean girl, or I'll scrub it raw myself if I have to!" He turned to the open door of his office. The clacking of heels caught my attention, so I turned to look as well. The lady who'd met up with me and abandoned me at the gate earlier strutted through the door, a serving tray with a tea kettle and a matching tea cup set in her hands. "Ms. Danvers?"

"Yes, Headmaster, and I've got your tea..."

"You are good to me, Ms. Danvers"

"No more than you deserve... Headmaster," Ms. Danvers said demurely, setting the tray down on a nearby table.

*'Ugh, i'm gonna hurl. Might get me in trouble, but that's better than whatever i'm sitting through right now.'* I shifted in my seat a bit, looking away.

"Ms. Danvers, would you kindly take our new friend Miss Hopkins here to the girl's dorm so she can be properly attired?"

"Certainly Headmaster," Ms. Danvers turned in my direction. As she did, her expression instantly changed from pleased to something akin to a disgusted sneer. Like she was addressing a bug she'd accidentally stepped on. "Come along, girl. I haven't got all day,"

I stood up, but before I could finally leave, Crabblesnitch addressed me one last time.

"And remember, young lady, you will have a clean nose, so keep it clean; or we'll do it for you."

As I left Crabblesnitch's office, I pondered at my current situation.

*'So, here I am at the worst school in the country, whose alumi are nothing but arms dealers, serial killers, and corporate lawyers. Real scum. And that out-of-touch old creep thinks he can tame me? We shall see my friend, I only give people what they have coming to them'*

Oh, that's good, that's something I'll have to remember to write into my diary later. I stuffed it in my suitcase for safe keeping, which was *hopefully* put into my dorm room.

Ms. Danvers and I stepped back into the school's main office.

"Go, run along to the Girl's dorm, young Hopkins, i'm far too busy to deal with you." Ms. Danvers abruptly said, much to my confusion and a little bit of anger..

"Weren't you supposed to take me there? Like Dr. Crabblesnitch told you to do?" My mind thought back to those boys from earlier. I didn't doubt that they would try to harass me again, especially after what I'd done to their buddy.

"The girl's dorm is the first building to your right when you enter the school. I'm sure you can find it on your own. You'll have plenty of time to get unpacked as your schedule is still being set up due to your mother's inability to send in your admission slip on time. Now, get a move on, little miss." Ms. Danvers replied, pretty much ignoring the question.

Well, there went my security.

I struggled not to flip off Ms. Danvers on my way out as I left the building. On my way out I saw a group of well dressed guys who all simultaneously radiated an air of smug get into a fight with what I could only guess were a few background characters from the movie Grease.

What the hell was wrong with this place?!

*'Just gotta get to the Girl's dorm, and I can keep my head down till lunch. Seems like a solid enough plan to me.'* it wasn't like I had classes to go to, at least not until tomorrow, or, if I was lucky, the day after maybe; Until then, just keeping a low profile was the best option.

As I made my way down the steps, I noticed two of the bullies from earlier walking my way, the karate obsessed one and slingshot kid. Without hesistation, I began speed walking back to the large circle walkway near the entrance, the middle area separating the two dorms. In my haste, I figured going right was correct, going off of memory of what Ms. Danvers had told me minutes earlier. I mean, shoot, my memory couldn't have been that bad, could it?

*'Ms. Danvers said something about going right, so i'm going right. Screw it'*

It was only when I reached the front of the building that I realized I'd fucked up my directions. I could clearly make out the words, 'BOY'S DORM' above the entrance to the building.

The blond, Trent *if* my memory was correct - considering how I ended up here, I was justified in having my doubts - who had tried to shake me down for money earlier stood in front of the steps leading to the dorm's entrance. His lower lip was swollen and turning a nasty shade of red and purple. He was joined alongside two redheads - auburn on the right and maroonish in front of the two - dressed similarly to him on the stairs leading up to the Boy's Dorm.

"It's her! That's the new girl who did it, Wade! I'm gonna end up relegated to backstage duty for my next play because of her!" Trent motioned at me, then to his throbbing, already starting to redden lower lip as he addressed the leading redhead.

"YOU'RE GONNA GET IT WWIIMMMPPP" the other red haired boy to the left practically shouted out. I wasn't sure if the guy lacked an inside voice or if he was just *really* that mad about what I'd done to his buddie's lip.

"You're dead, new kid, DEAD!" The redhead who'd been referred to as "Wade" shouted, making his way down the steps with his fists up and at the ready.

I backed away and turned, ready to sprint away again. Instead, I found that there were 4 other people behind me. There were the two other boys from earlier, the karate kid and Slingshot blocking off the entrance along with a black haired boy with a hell of a black eye on his right eye in the middle of them, though he looked a bit nervous. I knew he was with them, though, with how similarly he was dressed, with the white school button up with jeans look.

Then there was the last member, and she probably stood out the most, even though she was clearly with them given her outfit. She was a blonde, like Trent; and while that probably didn't necessarily mean they were related, the way she smiled certainly matched the same one he'd had earlier. She had those... weird emo kid hairstrips, the ones with jagged purple and black stripes. Her button-up shirt was open, and under it was a black spaghetti strap undershirt.

Her makeup was all fucked up, streaks of eyeliner haphazardly swiped under her eyes onto her cheeks as well as on her lips, which had some purple lipstick on peeking out from underneath all the mess. It was like she'd done her makeup while she was in the middle of a mental breakdown, just swiping and swiping until she'd finally felt satisfied.

She wore striped arm warmers and even though she wore jeans to match with the other boys, they were noticeably ripped to the point where the right pant leg was just gone, cut off to probably the beginning of her thigh. Underneath that was a pair of thigh-high socks, similar in color to her hair strips and arm warmers. Her shoes were a pair of Chuck Taylor shoes, yet again, the same color scheme to the aforementioned other articles of clothing she had.

She still had the school issued skirt and tie, but even she'd managed to put her own... unique touch on how she'd worn them. The skirt was tattered, not really exposing anything since she wore jeans, but I was surprised she was bold enough to just wear them destroyed like that. Then there was the way she wore the tie, which had me all kinds of confused. She had it in her hair, using it as a hair tie to pull some of her long hair into a side ponytail.

It was kind of difficult not to notice and point out all the oddities of her outfit. It was just... all out there.

She held up a video camera and pointed it at me. Great, so she thinks she's gonna record me getting my ass kicked? Nice, real nice. What a goddamn joke. I was just gonna be a part of something her and her buddies would laugh at later.

"Yeah! Get her! Get the new kid!" the karate obsessed boy jeered.

*'Damn it, mom, why'd it have to be this school?'* I thought as Wade began to get closer and closer.

"You jerks are really pissing me off! That's not something you wanna do, I'm only gonna tell you once! Screw off!" I carried myself and threatened him in the most intimidating way I could. A part of me knew it wouldn't work, though. It rarely ever did.

It wasn't fair. People always just had to pick on me, and for what? For what goddamn reason?! Why was I some kind of target for people to pick on?!

"A bit late for that bitch! Now put up or shut up and i'll beat your ass!"

I grabbed at the strap of my purse, letting it slip off my shoulder and fall to the ground.

What right did these jerks have to push me around? What dumb justification did they have? It was probably some bullshit about them being sad or something, as if that gave them any right...

I scowled, stepping forward towards the taller red-head.

Well, no more. These guys were clearly asking for it, so they were going to get *exactly* what was coming to them. I'd make damn sure of it.

I didn't notice the growing crowd forming behind the bullies blocking my only exit. Mainly students lured by all the commotion going on. I hardly heard the yipping and yelling of the crowd, my anger and frustration causing it all to merge together into some incomprehensible mish-mash of sound.

Wade took a step toward me, getting within a distance where he could hit me; instead, my fist cracked against his face, and the sound of my knuckle hitting spongy skin made an unpleasant sound. The force caused Wade to stumble back. His body barely turned 180 degrees before he fell back. His body hit the stone ground, and, for a moment, it all went quiet aside for the sound of me exhaling angrily.

Trent and Troy looked down at Wade's knocked out body in surprise, then looked up at me. It wasn't long until Trent blurted something out.

"Grab her Ethan!"

Behind me, Ethan grabbed at my arms, clearly trying to restrain me, but I realized he wasn't that much taller than me, so I retaliated by headbutting him. I whipped around, realizing that it was the Kung-fu kid from earlier. I threw a hard punch at his gut, and it was enough to double him over.

With my back turned, Trent took the opportunity to grab what little hair I had on my head and yank me back, followed by him pinning my arms while Troy prepared to punch me in the face.

Bad idea.

I ducked at the last second, and instead of Troy's fist hitting me, he'd accidentally socked Trent in the jaw instead.

"OH NO, I DIDN'T MEAN TO-"

Trent let go of me, and I kneed Troy in the crotch. Returning the favor, my fist met the middle of Troy's face. I got a bit of a thrill as I felt some of the bones of his nose crack from the force. He screamed and fell over, his nose already gushing.

I backed away, now facing the rest of the jerks who were stupid enough to mess with me.

2 down... 3 more to go. Trent, black eye kid, and Slingshot.

The three came at me all at once. Black eye kid tried grabbing for me.

"Nobody beats on Tom's frie-AaagGGGHHhhh!"

I kicked the kid, whose name was Tom, apparently, hard in the groin. I slammed my head on the left side of his face, subconsciously hoping to give him another black eye just for being stupid enough to grab me.

Slingshot grabbed me, and I took Tom and shoved him at Slingshot, causing the both of them to topple over. Slingshot kid hit the ground rather hard, and with the weight of Tom, he was knocked out.

Then there were just two, me and Trent.

He caught me off guard. Trent threw a punch at my face, and it connected. I stumbled back, and he hit again. That time it was a kick to my gut.

I found myself stumbling back a bit, but rather than that screwing me over, instead I ducked his punches. Trent was a lot taller than me, and I knew an easy way to use that against him.

I backed off, ducking to avoid both his punches and kicks. This only agitated him further, and he tried to get closer.

Before he knew what I was doing, I charged at him. I ducked, wrapping my arms around his waist and tackling him to the ground. He couldn't even act, freezing up as I laid punches on his face and chest. I was nearly out of breath by the time I was done.

Eventually, Trent stopped resisting altogether, head lolling to the side as the only sound he made was some pained groans.

I stood up, and only then did I notice the crowd blocking the entrance.

Every single one of them was shocked, and for a moment, their reactions had me a bit giddy. Especially the other Bully girl who was dressed weird, who was still filming *everything.* She appeared as if she wasn't sure if she should still film everything or not.

I was tempted to laugh until I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Y-You! Bitch! Once I'm- I'm done with you! You'll be drinking from a straw!"

Behind me, Wade yelled, and I turned around just as he swung for my face clumsily, as if my earlier punch still had him a bit dazed. I grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn.

A smirk crossed my face knowing what I was about to do.

With Wade's back to me, I grabbed his jeans and gave him a wedgie, causing him to squeal in a high pitch. I kicked him in the lower back for good measure, and the combination of the kick and his dazed state caused Wade to lose his balance, and just like when I'd slugged him in the face earlier, he fell and knocked himself out on the concrete.

And then it was all over.

I turned to Trent, and just to rub salt in the wound, I snorted and spat a wad of snot and spit on him.

"That's what happens when you screw with Jenny Hopkins! Who's your momma! Yeah!" I raised a fist to the air in triumph. Sure, my face kinda hurt and I was sure it'd bruise like hell, but hey! Things were actually going my way for once! I totally taught those jerks a lesson!

The crowd at the entrance began murmuring, and while I didn't catch what everyone was saying, one sentence stood out to me for whatever reason.

"Wow, what an idiot. Russell isn't going to like this." One of the more snobbish, uptight voices in the crowd spoke, giving me pause.

I waved it off, and spat back.

"Pft, who's Russell? I'll kick his ass too!" I said proudly. I'd already beaten all these guys. How could another dude be any more trouble?

My newfound confidence proved to be short-lived, however, as I began to feel the earth shake from beneath me.

An Earthquake? In New England?

No, that couldn't have been it, did they even have earthquakes in New England? What else could it be?

Whatever it was, it couldn't have been anything good, judging by how the crowd that surrounded the entrance to the Boy's Dorm just seconds earlier seemingly vanished without a trace, including the weirdly dressed girl.

A loud, ear shattering bang of wood hitting stone sounded behind me.

I twirled around, my usual squinted eyes now wide open in *bafflement* at the sight of the possible missing link in human evolution that she'd kept hearing about from those Bigfoot hunting shows.

At the top of the steps to the Boy's Dorm, an overly large ogre of a - Adult? Teen? I couldn't tell - student, judging by the uniform, stood as tall as he was wide, his frame taking up the entirety of the double door frame. He took one look at me, and then the group of boys laying prone on the concrete.

If this was a cartoon, I was sure there'd be steam pouring out of his ears. His face was redder than a chili pepper from rage.

He yelled, literally roaring as if he was some kind of beast instead of a man... boy...

...Whatever...

"YOU'RE DEAD, NEW KID! DEAD! ROAARRR!"

*'Fuck my life.'*

The brown haired beast rushed toward me, and for the first time in forever, I was stuck in place and couldn't move.

His fist met my face, nearly knocking me off balance. I felt a hot fluid spray out of my nose from the hit, and my hands clasped my nose immediately after, coming back colored in a dark red that contrasted heavily with the light freckled skin of my hands.

I yelped, stepping back as the beast roared again and beat his chest like a goddamn gorilla. Before he could unleash another blow, however, a voice I didn't recognize yelled from behind me.

"Russell! Russell, no sir! Back off of that girl at once!"

I turned and saw as a thin, young adult woman with yellowish blonde hair ran towards Russel and I, getting in between the two of us. She started grabbing at my shoulders firmly as a way to get ahold of me and away from the much bigger boy in front of us.

My nose blood trailed down my mouth, and I tasted copper - A taste I was all too familiar with - as I looked to the woman who was now focused on Russell.

"That'll be enough of that young man! I know your mother taught you better than to lay your hands on a fellow student like that!" The woman who couldn't have been that much older than me barked to the boy who towered over her. The over developed brute didn't give much of a reaction. In fact, it didn't seem like the kid even had much of anything going on upstairs.

Yet he complied, stomping back into the Boy's Dorm, like a well-fed bear returning to its cave to hibernate for the winter.

I sniffed, looking up at the woman.

A teacher that actually gave a shit for once? It was like I'd found a 4-leaf clover... or something like that.

When the woman turned to me, her face looked like she'd been on the verge of bursting into tears at any moment. Yet when she spoke again, her voice was weak and quiet, but not really wobbly like you'd usually notice from somebody about to cry.

"Oh dear... Your nose is bleeding... I really ought to take you to see the nurse for that, it could be broken..." She pointed at the main school building, to the left door next to the main entrance. "The nurse's office is just right there."

I shook my head.

"N-no, it's fine. I know what a broken nose feels like and what I've got... isn't it." I said, blowing my nose and feeling a bit of blood ooze out. To say I was familiar with having my nose broken would be like asking me if I was familiar with eating. Or breathing. "I just need a napkin or tissue, whichever one I can get a hold of."

The lady still looked a bit worried, but she didn't hesitate to dig into the satchel she had hung on her shoulder. She brought out a small pack of tissues sealed in a plastic wrapping, opening it and offering some of them to me.

"Here, you ought to make your way into the Girl's dorm. It's the building just over there. Mrs. Peabody is inside, and she'll make sure you're taken good care of. She looks after the girls here in Bullworth Academy."

She stuffed the remaining tissues back in her satchel as I tore and stuffed the pieces of it up my nostrils to block the blood flow. I felt and looked dumb, but that was better than getting blood everywhere.

Begrudgingly, I thanked the blonde woman, and in response, she gave me a smile. It was... rather nice. But I didn't give much of a response other than a nod. Adults tended to be two-faced and phony, and for all I knew, this was just gonna be something temporary.

"Oh no need to thank me, miss, I'm just doing my job." she gave me a pat on the back, which simultaneously felt a bit patronizing... but also kinda nice.

Huh, it looked like she really was just a nice lady. At least something was going good for me today.

"My name is Dr. Lamb, i'm Mrs. Peabody's aid as well as the school's guidance counselor. We'll probably be seeing a lot of each other from now on," Dr. Lamb looked around at the bullies who were currently writhing around in pain on the ground. I noticed she had a frown on her face, which made sense given what she had to deal with now... thanks to me no less.

"Go ahead and get yourself settled over in the Girl's Dorm. Mrs. Peabody might be a little strict, but she genuinely does care for the well-being of all the girls here in the Academy. I'll just take these boys over to Nurse McCrae."

I looked around and only then really took in the carnage I'd caused. Trent, Wade, and the rest of their buddies were sprawled out all around us. At least two of them had a bloody nose, and the kid with the thick Brooklyn accent had a tooth knocked out and a small trickle of blood trailing down his lips. Yeesh, I might've headbutted him harder than I thought. Wade's underwear peaked out of the back of his pants as he laid face down, clearly stretched out from the wedgie I'd given him.

I felt like grinning, but I felt that'd probably upset Dr. Lamb. She'd already been so nice to me, fucking up her opinion of me by being my typical snarky bitch self would suck.

"Yeah, I'll just get going... Thanks Dr. Lamb..."

I looked to the Girl's Dorm, only to notice her, the girl from before who'd been recording everything, running back to the scene. I'd been prepared to beat her ass like I'd done to her friends when she just bumped into me, running past *without* apologizing and yelling:

"Guys! Don't worry, I've got my healing crystals!"

A chorus of groans came from the boys lying down, and I stifled a laugh before making my way to the Girl's dorm properly.

[dynmghts]

TRANSMISSION FROM @fightaers : “you don’t recognize me, do you? well, i’d never forget you, kacchan.” (AU where quirkless izuku who didnt inherit OFA became like... a paramedic i think. LISTEN. im making this up as i go!!!) MISTER MAGIC STARTERS , ACCEPTING .

pro hero dynamight had made an entire career on his aggressive approach to opponents, his less-than-savoury interactions with the general public, even his unconventional teamwork techniques ... when he was in a team. he has been credited as one of the fastest to climb the ranks since hawks. he was even being hailed as the next - potential - number one. and with extensive studies under some of the other top heroes, including best jeanist and endeavour, his record was something worth looking at.

and there was one thing to remember about katsuki bakugou : he will never say no to going toe-to-toe with villains. anytime, anywhere.

this situation involved some wreckage of a building, and while the rescue heroes focus on getting people out of the debris, katsuki harnessed his strength against the villains - he is the first point of call in the area, after all. and rightfully so, in the way he moves / people don't even see him as he zips across the field, his explosions the only indication of where he is, his wild taunting the only reprieve between his attacks.

while he knocks down most, he doesn't quite beat the speed of an oncoming attack of light, small intense beams grazing past his cheek and arms and torso ; and while the damage is only a few grazes, he still secures his win. the villain gets a less-than-pleasant blast to the face and a clean knockout.

it's one of his former classmates that direct him to the paramedics on scene, even though he insists his wounds aren't that bad ... [ because they're just a few scrapes, what the hell ? ] ... and that he could walk it off. he pushes his mask up with frustration and sits nearby. his hand brushes some of his fringe out of his eyes while he waits, until he hears a voice cut through all the noise, and crimson lifts to glare at the disruptor.

nothing clicks straight away. for a few moments, he thinks this asshole has the wrong person, or he's a fan trying to make out that they have connections to try and get closer / being as popular as he's gotten, they are tactics he's been wary of, and not many get past the whole known-him-since-childhood phase. katsuki had no real friends back then. well, except -

what was that nickname ? kacchan. kacchan ...

the name invokes memories he could barely recall otherwise ; a green-haired, freckled boy that followed him everywhere. a boy with an indomitable will despite his quirklessness. a boy that was willing to follow katsuki into the belly of the beast until he couldn't anymore, and katsuki promptly forgot about him, moving on in u.a. and getting accustomed to having no shadow anymore.

kacchan, kacchan, kacchan, and he sees the river, knee-deep in flowing cold water as the other looks down on him and offers a hand.

❛ deku, ❜ he finally utters. useless, good-for-nothing / he hasn't changed much since they parted ways in aldera middle school. he has the paramedics uniform on, though, and he stares at him with disbelief ; was he the one treating him ? ❛ tch. shoulda known. you've got one of those annoying fucking faces, the ones that are hard to forget, no matter how plain they are. ❜

he scowls when he turns his gaze away, but he doesn't actively seek out another paramedic to treat his wounds. his injuries weren't bad, right ? ❛ fix me up already. i'm not here to play catch-up with you. ❜

[youeverjustmarryabountyhunter]

This au seems to have consumed my every waking thought so more info about the fix it au!! And some lil sketches :)

Spar (he's going through his mullet phase that is not a phase but Jango would like to think it was) and a little baby clone! I didn't think of anyone specific for the baby so feel free to use your imagination.

More info!! Plot edition :)

TW: Child Abuse/Abuse In General, Captivity/Kidnapping, Threats Of Harm To Children

●Jango is fiercely protective. (We need more feral dad Jango in the world.) You probably saw that coming- but in his defense with the life that he currently has he kinda has to be protective. He would do anything for his kids, and gods forbid you touch a hair on their heads. (Palpatine learns that the hard way)

*Jango isn't the only who who's protective for that matter. His kids have their fathers DNA and they tend to show it. They won't hesitate to look out for their brothers (or their father. Do not fuck with that man. If he doesn't get you, they will)

●As I said, Jango didn't agree to this whole clone template thing, but he's here now. When he came to the realization of just what was going on and what he was expected to do- he wanted nothing more than to get the hell away (not the he could, but he did try) He was basically like an animal in a cage and helpless to his captors wrath. The kaminoians didn't hesitate to use the clones to keep him in line. Not only that, but he was expected to act and treat the clones a certain way. So, Jango decided to try and play nice and hence "Prime" was born.

●Prime is entirely a persona created to fool the Kaminoians and anyone else into thinking he's behaving how they want him to. Cruel, merciless, and a hard trainer. Prime is a mask, and only Jango and the clones know that. Away from it all, Jango is very caring and attentive father. He doesn't like having to to put on a hard face but if it protects them then so be it. (Jango has never hurt them just fyi! Even when he is acting as Prime he cannot bring himself to harm them.)

●Despite behaving as if doesn't care about the kids as Prime, he does everything in his power to advocate for them. (Ex: When they wanted to decomission Rex and Jango put his foot down. Did I mention the commander batch was in this au as well btw? Not the point. They'll come up later along with a bunch more familiar faces.)

●The Kaminoians are well aware of just how important touch is to the clones, and are not afraid to exploit it. Isolation is a very popular punishment. (They once isolated Alpha for about 2 weeks while Jango was off on a hunt. When Jango got back he was livid. He had to play it off as if he was mad for another reason like Alpha was missing training but everyone else knew the real reason. Later, away from prying eyes, Alpha got some much needed tlc.)

●The Alpha batch's native language is Mando'a. The kaminoians did not like that- hence why every clone after that is taught basic first and then mando'a later. (Aside from Boba, but Boba is just an entirely different case in general. Boba is apart of the commander batch.)

●Alpha doesn't have a name because he doesn't want one. The clones have very few things they have control of, when Alpha told Jango that he didn't want a name, Jango didn't push it. He wants to give his boys the most control of their loves as he can.

●The Kaminoians don't like that Jango started naming then in the first place, but Jango just argued that calling out a number was frustrating and annoying.

[kizzer55555]

So I don’t know if this counts but here’s a DP x spn crossover idea I have. So basically, something happens and the Winchester brothers come across infinite realm ghosts. Vlad specifically (could be just him, could be others.) and they get separated. They try everything they can think of but none of their tricks work on Vlad. He treats the holy water like normal water, can cross salt lines, unbothered by the numerous chants they’ve tried or sigils they write, and any of their actual weapons such as guns, silver, iron, holy metal or other, even a good old fist to the face, just pass right through him. They have NEVER encountered a creature like this before. They don’t even know what it is. But whatever it is has a myriad of powers they’ve never seen before and is pretty much invincible. And then they get separated. (Maybe in the ghost zone, maybe in some random location. Maybe they were trapped in Walker’s ghost prison for being ‘illegal humans’ and Vlad is acting Warden or wants an object from them? Who knows?) So Sam is running from this…creature and Danny ends up seeing this happen and decides to help out when it appears Vlad might kill him. And Sam has no idea why a clearly supernatural creature is helping him, especially since he thinks they might be the same species?? But he keeps running. And then at some point Sam is cornered again and Danny takes a hit meant for the guy (maybe at first Danny was just tackling Vlad and Sam thought it was some kind of territorial thing and while it was supicious the second creature kept putting itself between Sam and the first creature, he chalked it up to a coincidence because there was no reason for it to help him) and a strike was about to hit Sam but Danny, after being thrown down in the opposite direction, very clearly throws himself between Sam and the hit, taking it himself. And tells Sam to run. This changes the tide of battle as before they were kinda even but now Danny is injured. So Sam runs while the second humanoid creature distracts the first (a little bitter because it appeared to be a kid) and then practically crashed into Dean. And they have the chance to get away but Sam stops him and explains about the other creature who saved him. Saying they couldn’t just leave him there. Besides, it looked like a kid. And Obviously Dean is ready to leave. (If they did have an object Vlad wanted, it was lost long ago in the fight and not worth their lives. But maybe they just interrupted his business and he didn’t want witnesses.) So Dean is convincing his brother to leave when they hear a noise and both immediately hide and then look out to see the first hostile creature dragging the unconscious form of the second creature away and the second creature is clearly injured. And looks like a kid. Maybe 15 years old.

And then a green portal opens up that gives off the most ominous presence, enough to make a shiver go down their spines, and the first creature is dragging the injured, young second creature through and so Dean says fine and gives in but makes it clear he’s only helping so they can figure out what the fudge those things are. So they get Danny away from Vlad. Maybe they shoot Vlad and it actually works because Vlad wasn’t expecting it and didn’t phase through it, or maybe they hit him right when the portal closed and it distracted him, maybe it’s just an outright smoke bomb kidnapping and they just bolt? But basically, they do something and now Vlad is gone and they have an unconscious, glowing, bleeding teenager. So they just kinda…manhandle the body into the Impala and really, they should not have as much experience manhandling unconscious, corpse like bodies into their car, but they do. So now they have an unconscious and injured unknown creature who is likely a child of the unknown species and Dean figures that at the very least, if they are helping him they‘ll figure a few things out so as they are trying to use medical supplies to fix up the scratches and burns and stop the oozing, glowing green substance flowing from the kids wounds that they think is his blood. Dean is also doing research on what the heck they just fought. As well as poking the unconscious teen with various things. Now that he isn’t phasing through them. Iron? No. Silver? No. Holy water? Nah, just passes right over the skin like normal water. Salt? Nah. What about fire? “Dean!”

“What?”

And so the experiments/impromptu surgery happens and it’s not like they can take the kid to a normal hospital so they go to see Bobby. And he just sees the two brothers awkwardly trying to drag a glowing body out of the Impala that is covered in amateur bandaging and leaking a green substance over everything. If this is a point in the series where Cas is present, he shows up later (likely was also separated from the brothers during the fight and then reunited with them at the car as they are running to it while carrying the unconscious Danny. Or maybe shows up at the car after the battle, sees them, and is like, what is that?) and Cas can’t even identify what Danny is. Not a demon. He doesn’t sense a malevolent presence from him. But not fully human either. Too strong. And a connection to death? (Did Vlad or anyone se mention they were ghosts and the Winchester’s just didn’t believe them/thought the creature was messing with him?) uuhhhh…I’m not sure if he’s breathing but the blood hasn’t stopped flowing. Ghost? Zombie?

“He’s too….alive to be a zombie.”

“He’s too alive to be a ghost!”

Cas says he’s closer to an angel than anything but something’s still off. And he doesn’t have any grace.

“Wouldn’t a graceless angel just be a human?”

So when Danny finally wakes up it’s going to be ✨interesting✨. But basically, Danny stays in Phantom form and the Winchesters have no idea he’s part human. Even if Danny does change to his human form, they just think it’s some kind of shapeshifting ability. (Does Danny tell them and they don’t believe him? Does he keep it secret? Does he think they already know/figure if they accept his ghost side there’s no need to hide the human part and just, not bother hiding it but they don’t pick up context clues?). So they now have a baby…thing…join them.

Is this a bad Fenton parents universe and Danny ran away? Nasty burger incident and Danny was running from Vlad? Is this Danny on ‘vacation’ with his Godafther and prefers spending time with the Winchesters Until he has to go home rather than the fruitloop? Does Danny just disappear because he was injured/saved and his parents just haven’t realised it yet? Is Danny jumping between the Winchesters and Amity? Who knows!

Hhh

That’s right. It’s 2:46am and I’m ready to take on Supernatural. Have I finished the show? ✨no✨ have I watched it at all since middle school ✨no✨ . And yet here we are.

I feel like I draw Danny almost exclusively in a state of panic or despair. Anyway, most dpXspn crossovers start by answering those^^ questions, sometimes the brothers are friends of the Fenton family, sometimes they just kinda happen upon him or amity. And either don’t know abt his ghost half or uh try to kill him.. I mean I think they try to kill him either way,,

Which is why I love>>

ThiS^ the brothers show up to the bunker for the first time in a while and- What the SHit?? Is that a child??? Bobby has a knack for taking care of children of neglectful hunter parents. Bonus points if there’s something obviously off about that kid,,, Bobby,, Bobby, I’m pretty sure that’s eyeshine,, Bobby please he’s obviously not human.

Danny: “there’s a ghost near by”

Bobby: “thanks buddy”

Dean: “???????????”

Then again there’s ol’ reliable: summon Ghost King

For whatever reason, the boys summon Danno either by accident or bc they need the help of the famed Ghost King and confusion on both sides ensues.

✨friendship✨ Danny is a paradoxical migraine, a being both dead and alive Cas probably has to deal with him at some point..

Idk either way, no dp fic is really complete without

That’s right boys, you’ve just combined two heavy angst potential worlds, and is it your job to bare the weight of it all? Nope- it’s His. Put the misery of the world right on his little shoulders and watch him squirm . Are we really better than that of which we rend?

When given the Winchester brand flannel, Danny likes to tuck it in his pants, specifically bc it pisses them off.

There really aren’t enough DPXSPN fics out there, and maybe that’s for the best.

….but if you happen to have any recommendations *grabby hands**

I’m in love with the premise of Wayward Son by avearia on Ao3 ajhsjsksk k good night

[00katrinka00]

Not A Love Story Update #23 Part 1

Garreth didn't speak to Ansley for the remainder of the weekend. She'd said she needed space to sort through everything in regard to Fiona, and he was trying to give it to her. He'd spent nearly every day for the last 6 weeks with her, and now he felt as though he were missing a limb without her.

He found himself excited for Singh's class Monday morning, it meant he'd get to see her. Except, when Jae came striding in, Ainsley was nowhere to be found. "Where is she?" he asked. "I thought she would have told you, family emergency. She'll be doing class remotely for the last 2 weeks of school."

He slumped back in his seat clearly disappointed. "I thought you'd be the first person she'd tell," Jae admitted Garreth was unsure of how much Ainsley had told their friends about what happened this past weekend, knowing her it wasn't much. "We were busy with homework this weekend," he finally said

As much as Garreth wanted to fulfil Ainsley's desire for space right now, he also couldn't help but feel like this was her way of phasing him out. He'd gotten too close, and now she was getting ready to bolt. "You do not look good," Diego observed as they headed to meet their friend's for lunch.

"I have a lot on my mind," Garreth told him. "Is this about Ainsley?" asked Diego Garreth paused for a moment before asking, "how much do you know? About what happened this past weekend." "Some kind of family emergency she said. But, I've known Ains longer than anyone, so I know it's more than that"

Ultimately, Garreth decided to tell Diego everything. If anyone had any idea of where Ainsley's head was at it'd be him. "All that stuff about needing space is bullshit," Diego finally said. "Call her, do something, otherwise, yeah she might be getting ready to bolt." "You're sure?" "Positive."

As the week progressed, Ainsley felt like she was hanging on by a thread, just barely keeping her head above water. It wasn't that Fiona was difficult to take care of, she was more or less self sufficient. It was the state in which Paul and Susanna had left things, a complete and utter mess.

There were overdue bills, things around the apartment that needed cleaning and repairs. Not to mention the stacks of custody papers Ainsley now had to go through if she wanted to be Fiona's legal guardian. All while working full time at the bookstore, and trying to stay up to date with her classes.

Needless to say, Ainsley was drowning. She'd stopped considering what she wanted a long time ago. Though, if she were being honest with herself, this wasn't it. Becoming Fiona's legal guardian at almost 21 was the last thing she wanted to do, but Ainsley also couldn't abandon her only sibling.

Perhaps she was procrastinating signing the custody papers, but she decided to work on the few things around the apartment that were relatively easy fixes, like cleaning all the spoiled food from the fridge. As she scrubbed, her mind kept wandering back to one thing, or rather one person, Garreth

He'd called multiple times a day since Monday, but Ainsley hadn't had the heart to answer or return his calls. She knew what he was likely to say, and it wasn't a reality she was ready to live just yet. She could continue living in her delusions, at least for a few more days, until the inevitable.

She knew that no sane 22 year old would willingly date someone who had to take over parenting duties for their younger sibling, so it was only a matter of time before Garreth decided to break things off with her, and frankly Ainsley didn't want to think about how that heartbreak would feel.

After finishing as many chores as she could, Ainsley headed downstairs to begin her shift at the bookstore. "Sit with me a moment," Gloria said gesturing Ainsley towards the sitting area. "We're about to open." "I'm the damned owner, if we open a few minutes late then we open a few minutes late."

"Tell me, how are you doing dear? After everything," Gloria was the only person who knew absolutely everything about Ainsley's situation, even the details she refused to tell Diego. "I don't know," she admitted. "I suppose I feel like this is all my fault. That if I hadn't done what I did…"

"Don't start down that path of guilt, sweetheart," Gloria told her. "Remember what I told you? People aren't just black and white, they're gray. Sometimes people, especially women, have to make difficult decisions in order to protect the people around them, but that doesn't make you a bad person."

"But if I hadn't…"Ainsley trailed off, but Gloria knew what she meant. "Then none of this would have happened." "Then what?" Gloria asked. "He had been hurting your mother for how many years? He started hurting you, how long until he started hurting Fiona?" "I don't know, but he might not have…"

"Sweetheart, men like that will never stop at flesh and blood. Trust me, I would know," Gloria reminded her. "What you did, you did to protect yourself and your sister, do not ever feel guilty about that, okay?" "Okay…" "And stop blaming yourself for choices you were forced to make."

After her talk with Gloria, Ainsley officially opened the store for the day. She was grateful Gloria allowed her to do schoolwork standing at the counter, otherwise she had no idea when she'd have time to get it done, and it wasn't like they were particularly busy in the middle of the day like this.

It took nearly 2 hours for them to receive their first customer, and much to Ainsley's dismay, it was not someone she particularly wanted to see. "What are you doing out of class in the middle of the day like this?" Garreth's mother asked her. "I'm doing class remotely, family emergency."

"I see," Christine said. Ainsley could tell she was a bit skeptical. She didn't know how much about her current situation Garreth had told his mother. "Well, I'm here shopping for some books to add to Garreth's grad present. Speaking of, you should bring Fiona to his party, she's such a good kid."

"She really is" agreed Ainsley. She liked Christine, she really did. Ainsley had never felt as welcomed as she did on Bunny Day when Garreth had brought her home to meet his family. Now, the White family was just another thing she'd miss when he broke up with her. "Are you alright?" Christine asked.

"I'm fine," Ainsley did her best to put on a happy face. Christine raised a brow, "I was devastated when Garreth left for uni," she said changing the subject. "The house is just so empty now. It's hard to believe it's already been 4 years and he's graduating. I so miss having a full nest."

Not knowing what to say, Ainsley nodded. "He's so good as well," Christine added. "I want you to know that he loves you so much." "He told you?" "No, but I know. He has always looked at you the same way his father looks at me. He might not want to admit it, but he's Henry's son through and through."

Ainsley found herself at a loss for words. That was no issue for Christine who said "It's best I be going, but just remember there's nothing in a relationship that can't be fixed with a good conversation." "Alright." "Oh, and it's quite hard to heal from something in the same place that hurt you."

That afternoon, Ainsley was tasked with shelving books. She was still reeling from her conversation with Christine, trying to make sense of everything she'd told her, but it only made her more confused. "What the hell are you doing?" Ainsley turned to find Diego there looking none too happy with her

"Working…" said Ainsley clearly confused. Diego rolled his eyes, "With Garreth." "I don't see how that's your business." "None of my business? He's my friend, Ains, because of you might I add, and he's been miserable all week because you refuse to return his calls. So, I think it is my business."

"He loves you," Diego continued without letting Ainsley speak. "In fact he's in love with you. He's probably the best guy you've ever been with, that you'll ever be with. He would do anything for you, and he's miserable without you. I can't let you bolt this time, I can't. For both of your sakes."

"You don't know what you're talking about," she finally said. "Don't I? I've been with him all week, and trust me he's miserable. Just talk to him." Without another word, Diego stormed off leaving Ainsley with the realization that she still had at least one more tough conversation to have today.